


Re: re: potato

by bysine



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Comedy, Friendship, Inspired by Misaeng, M/M, Potatoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 16:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20603651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bysine/pseuds/bysine
Summary: Jaebeom, on the other hand, had spent the meeting instant messaging Team Leader Hwang Chansung from Sales Team 3 to ask where on earth Park Jinyoung had gone for him to have returned to work brown as a nut and in a neck brace.His car got rear-ended while he was in Vietnam, apparently, Team Leader Hwang had replied,also I just said that I tendered my fucking resignation and you’re concerned about park jinyoung’s whiplash injury??????---An office!AU. Rated P for potato.





	Re: re: potato

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by the sublime _Misaeng (2014)_, the OG slice-of-life naturalistic office kdrama, which I highly recommend. All gems of wisdom and _baduk_ metaphors are from _Misaeng_; all stupid potato jokes and egregious errors about life in a trading company are my own.

Nobody says anything just for the sake of saying it, around these parts. 

So when Manager Lee Junho takes the long way round the office in order to stop by Jaebeom’s desk at eight forty-five a.m. on a Monday morning, vile protein shake in one hand and a full-colour print-out of last week’s stats in the other, Jaebeom is fairly certain that something is up. 

Then he asks: “Had any potatoes recently?” and Jaebeom’s heart plummets. 

He whips up his phone the moment Manager Lee wanders out of earshot, and dials Youngjae’s extension with rapid, practiced precision. 

Youngjae answers on the first ring. “I’ve heard,” he says, because when has he _not_.

“Fucking fuck,” says Jaebeom. “Fucking _fuckity_ fuck.”

“Was your inbox full when HR sent round that email about appropriate language at the workplace?” asks Youngjae.

“Fuck you, you foul-mouthed bag of di--”

“Potatoes?” Youngjae finishes. 

Jaebeom slams down the phone. 

Mark, who is using his last ten minutes before the start of official working hours to “practice mindfulness” with the cut-rate meditation app HR had foisted upon all of them several months ago, opens his eyes and swivels round. His headphones aren’t even plugged in to his phone. The napping bastard. 

“What’s happened now?” 

“They really gave it to us,” Jaebeom says bitterly. “They really went and did it.” 

“Gave what?” Mark asks.

“The potato festival portfolio.” 

\---

The sad truth of the matter is that Team Leader Im Jaebeom doesn’t even have a team to lead. 

He has Mark, technically, but Mark is on loan from the US office and can only be considered to be in Jaebeom’s team in the sense that he sits along the row of cubicles that Jaebeom’s own, only slightly larger cubicle overlooks. 

Apparently Mark had been on holiday in Jeju the day the rest of his former team had gladly moved away from the shittiest row in the shittiest wing of the shittiest floor in the building. They had then conveniently forgotten to collect him after he had returned. Occasionally, a hapless trainee from his former team will still come by to ask if he might have a copy of one of the old contracts the team had previously been handling. At which point Mark will do the thing where he pretends not to understand much Korean and looks aggressively, apologetically handsome, and Jaebeom will return from the pantry to find the path to his desk blocked by said trainee attempting to go through half a dozen acid-free archival storage boxes on their own.

Mark apparently majored in East Asian studies at Stanford, with a concentration in Korean language. This is irrelevant to Jaebeom. As far as Jaebeom is concerned, Mark is the most egregious chewer of desk snacks in the history of chewing, and his Stanford degree has thus far gone towards watching YouTube videos of BLACKPINK in the office without the use of subtitles. 

And so in light of the above, and the fact that Jaebeom had only just been promoted to Team Leader less than a month ago, he, a fool, had thought himself somehow immune to the biennial exercise of who gets the cursed potato festival portfolio. 

“I thought Department Head Jung gave you quite the significant look when he mentioned it during last week’s monthly brief,” says Youngjae, who has been summoned up onto the roof for an emergency caucus. 

Jaebeom takes the cigarette Youngjae offers him, and then hands it back because he’s supposed to have quit, dammit. “You were at the dentist during that meeting, how the fuck do you know that?”

“I have my sources,” Youngjae replies, not putting the cigarette away because he’s a smug bastard who enjoys winding Jaebeom up. 

“Of course, what did I expect,” Jaebeom mutters. He, on the other hand, had spent the meeting instant messaging Team Leader Hwang Chansung from Sales Team 3 to ask where on earth Park Jinyoung had gone for him to have returned to work brown as a nut and in a neck brace. 

_His car got rear-ended while he was in Vietnam, apparently_, Team Leader Hwang had replied, _also I just said that I tendered my fucking resignation and you’re concerned about park jinyoung’s whiplash injury??????_

Jaebeom had set his status to ‘do not disturb’ after that, but apparently that had also been the point when Department Head Jung’s aforementioned significant look had been directed at Jaebeom. 

“Look, it’s a test, all right?” Youngjae is saying, and Jaebeom really shouldn’t be taking strategic advice from a junior who literally just took over Jaebeom’s desk at the Steel Team. “You’re their youngest Team Leader and they want to know if you can shovel shit before they give you the good stuff.” 

“Weren’t you the one who called the potato festival ‘literally an exit interview’ last week?” 

“Uh,” says Youngjae, looking guilty. “It’ll be okay if it’s you?”

Jaebeom swipes the cigarette and lighter from Youngjae’s hands and lights it, inhaling gratefully. He hasn’t spent the past year sleeping in a bag under his desk and showering at _jimjilbang_s to fall apart over something like this. 

“If I’m going to do this, I’m going to angle for a team,” says Jaebeom. “Not just any team. The best team. They owe me that, at the very least.” 

\---

“We’ll give you Bambam but you’ll have to take Kim Yugyeom,” says Department Head Jung. 

“With all due respect,” says Jaebeom, “those are trainees.”

Department Head Jung frowns. “Bambam is our best trainee.”

“Yes he is,” says Jaebeom, “but Kim Yugyeom walked into a glass door on his first day and now none of the other teams want him.”

“It’s a give and take, you know that don’t you?” Department Head Jung replies. “And besides, you have Mark, from America.”

“That’s what I meant by resourcing issues,” Jaebeom grits out.

“Has Office Management put up a sign on that glass door yet?” muses Department Head Jung. 

Jaebeom sighs. “There were three signs on that door the day he walked into it.”

“Hm,” says Department Head Jung. “I suppose one more wouldn’t hurt.”

“Neither would one more competent team member,” Jaebeom says. “An assistant team leader, at the very least.” 

Department Head Jung appears to consider this.

“I think we can really turn this portfolio around,” continues Jaebeom with the same urgent earnestness he once used to convince a buyer to take on ten million won worth of extra rivets. “If you just entrust me with a good team -- one good, sufficiently experienced _person_\--”

“If I give you that,” says Department Head Jung with a sly look, “your team will take on internships as well.” 

“Of course,” says Jaebeom, with his most winning smile. “We can definitely handle internships.”

“Then it’s settled,” Department Head Jung says. “I’ll transfer you Park Jinyoung from Sales Team 3.” 

\---

“Park Jinyoung,” says Youngjae, “is a fucking viper.” 

“Yeah but who here isn’t?” Jaebeom replies. 

Youngjae looks speculatively round at the people currently having lunch in the office canteen. Just one table away, Im Nayeon from Textiles Team 2 is asking an intern where exactly they said they had gone to school again. 

“Point,” he says.

The thing is, Jaebeom can quite clearly remember a time when Park Jinyoung hadn’t been ‘a fucking viper’, as Youngjae has so eloquently put it. 

They’d come in on the same day as interns, Jinyoung sticking out amidst the sea of blue suits as the only one in a grey pinstripe two sizes too large for him.

“Let me guess,” one of the other interns had said to him, “Seoul or Yonsei?”

Jinyoung had glanced up at the guy with an expression of quizzical politeness, until someone else had hissed, “That’s the guy who only did the high school equivalency exam, you idiot,” and a hush had fallen over the room. 

Jaebeom wouldn’t have intervened, but for the fact that the guy who had asked the question had been a raging asshole who had also been one year Jaebeom’s senior at university. Once, memorably, he had taken the track team juniors out for _samgyeopsal_ as a farewell treat and then left Jaebeom to foot the bill.

“Hey, Kim Sang-chul,” Jaebeom had said, “how did that post-graduation break of yours go? What’s it been, more than a year?”

There had been a collective intake of breath from everyone else, and Kim Sang-chul had turned a shade of bright red. And Jinyoung had looked at Jaebeom like _he’d_ been the asshole.

From then on, everyone had assumed that Jaebeom _wanted_ to be paired with Jinyoung. 

The high school equivalency exam thing had turned out to be true, but contrary to the rumours of nepotism, the truth had been something a little more strange.

“_Baduk_,” Jinyoung had told Jaebeom, during an all-nighter they had pulled to put together a presentation for the recruitment panel. Jinyoung hadn’t even really known how to properly use PowerPoint, for fucks sake.

“I’m sorry?” Jaebeom had snapped, deep into a second proofread of their draft report. 

“I was training to be a professional _baduk_ player,” Jinyoung had said. “I dropped out of high school and moved to Seoul for that.”

“You mean the chess thing with the black and white round pieces?” Jaebeom had asked, curious despite his exhaustion and general irritability. A nagging headache had settled at his temples, which in later years he would be told was due to his constant jaw clenching. 

“Yes,” Jinyoung had replied, eyes bright.

“Okay,” Jaebeom had said. “I still have to finish this, though,” he had added, before returning to their report.

It had been stupid how trusting Jinyoung had been, back then, the way he had looked at Jaebeom like they were _in this together_ or something; as if Jaebeom hadn’t been just another asshole trying to get ahead. 

At celebratory drinks the next night, when they’d made it through the assessment to become proper trainees, Jinyoung had gotten falling down drunk on one beer and had flung his arms around Jaebeom like a limpet, snuffling his thanks in a manner so heartfelt and earnest it had been like a jolt through Jaebeom’s chest. 

Then Jinyoung had gone on at length into Jaebeom’s shoulder about some complicated _baduk_ metaphor about life and work while the other successful interns had filed off to hit the _noraebang_, leaving Jaebeom to stuff an unjustifiably inebriated Jinyoung into a taxi on his own. He had ended up dragging Jinyoung up a hill to Jinyoung’s front door that night, where he had then had to wake Jinyoung’s concerned aunt and explain multiple times that Jinyoung had literally only had _one beer, ma’am_. 

“You’re that friend of his from work, aren’t you?” the aunt had said, as Jaebeom had carried Jinyoung into the tiny house and Jinyoung’s even tinier bedroom, the walls of which had still been papered with _baduk_ pattern sheets. Her eyes, he remembers, had been as bright as Jinyoung’s. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Jaebeom had just mumbled something like, “Don’t mention it,” and then fled the house, because he hadn’t so much taken care of Jinyoung as dragged him, furiously and reluctantly, through the entire internship assessment process. And yet, despite Jaebeom having had to teach Jinyoung the most basic of tasks, such as answering phones and working the photocopying machine, there had been moments in those past weeks where Jinyoung had said or done something so whip-smart and _clever_ that Jaebeom found himself experiencing actual anger from how inadequate it made him feel. 

The next day, Jaebeom had been placed in the Steel Team and Jinyoung had been allocated, on a contract basis, to Sales Team 3. And that had been the end of it. 

“Have you spoken to him yet?” Youngjae asks, while also taking Jaebeom’s distraction as an opportunity to snag the potato salad from the side dishes on Jaebeom’s tray. 

Everybody in this organisation is obsessed with two things: getting their next promotion, and the fucking cafeteria potato salad. 

“No,” Jaebeom replies, letting Youngjae get away with it because he’s been working overtime with the intel. “Should I have?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” says Youngjae, “_should you_ try to establish friendly relations with the person best able to help you escape the potato cesspit you’ve found yourself in? Truly, a question for the ages.”

“Okay that’s it,” says Jaebeom, standing abruptly and snatching the potato salad dish from beneath Youngjae’s chopsticks. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Youngjae asks, as Jaebeom stalks out of the cafeteria, dish in hand. “I’m finishing your _jjigae_ if you’re not coming back!”

Jaebeom takes the lift to the fifteenth floor and makes a right turn from the lobby into Sales, narrowly avoiding a large standing sign illustrating the correct ways to pick up a box. He strides down the length of the office until he reaches the row of cubicles that houses Sales Team 3. 

Jinyoung is the only one at his desk. He is holding in his right hand what Jaebeom guesses is probably the saddest kimbap in the world (rice and pickled radish, if he’s not changed it up since his intern days), while trying to one-handedly stuff his computer monitor into a moving box. He’s also still wearing his neck brace. 

“I’m fairly sure someone should be helping you with that,” Jaebeom says, causing Jinyoung to jump. 

“Are you offering?” Jinyoung asks, with that opaque look he always gives Jaebeom whenever they run into each other at the lift and have to make small talk about the weather or the World Cup. 

(“The World Cup of what?” Jinyoung had asked once, in their first year when everyone else had been raving about some goal or other from the night before. 

The lift had gone silent.

“I expect they’re talking about football,” Kang Seul-gi had said airily, coming to Jinyoung’s rescue because she could be kind when she wanted to be.

“Read the fucking news, would you,” Jaebeom had told Jinyoung later in the lobby by the plastic palm trees, weirdly annoyed at how Jinyoung didn’t even seem all that embarrassed. 

He’d regretted it immediately, of course, and had ducked into the toilet after that to send Jinyoung a link to a Twitter account that posted soccer news updates. 

_For my continuing education?_ Jinyoung had texted back, with an alien and a spaceship emoji. Jaebeom hadn’t allowed himself to reply.)

“I came to give you this I guess,” Jaebeom says now, setting down the dish -- the fucking _potato salad_, he can’t believe himself -- on top of a towering stack of folders on Jinyoung’s desk. “They run out really quick.”

“I’m allergic to mayonnaise,” Jinyoung replies evenly.

“Oh,” says Jaebeom. And stands there like a fucking idiot. 

“I guess you could eat that and then help me out,” Jinyoung says. 

“Where are you going?” Jaebeom asks.

Jinyoung gives him a quizzical look. “To your floor, where else?” 

“_Oh_,” says Jaebeom. “I thought you were meant to be on temporary loan.” 

“They dissolved the team after Team Leader Hwang tendered his resignation,” Jinyoung replies. “Also nobody wanted to join us because they think I got knocked over by a car while trying to close a deal in Ho Chi Minh City.” 

“Didn’t you?” asks Jaebeom. 

“It was a slow-moving motorcycle,” says Jinyoung, “and I had already _finished_ the deal.” 

“Wow, stop the press,” Jaebeom deadpans, and is surprised when Jinyoung actually laughs. 

\---

**From:** FACILITIES MANAGEMENT <facman@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** **JYPI-ALL**  
**Subject:** Re: Bringing Food Out Of The Cafeteria

Dear all,

It has been two months and sixteen days since our last reminder to you not to bring food out of the cafeteria. The reasons for this are twofold: first, it is difficult for the cafeteria staff to track and account for missing dishes and utensils. Secondly, our cleaning staff have had to contend with returning half-eaten plates of food on top of their regular duties. 

As we said in our previous email, we will now be publishing photographs of instances where our team have been notified of a breach of the abovementioned rule. 

[level 15_potato salad.jpg]

We look forward to your continued cooperation. 

Best regards,  
**_The Facilities Management Team_**

_PLEASE SAVE THE ENVIRONMENT AND ONLY PRINT THIS EMAIL IF ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. _

\---

**From:** CHANSUNG HWANG <chansunghwang@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** **JYPI-ALL**, FACILITIES MANAGEMENT <facman@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject: **Re: re: Bringing Food Out Of The Cafeteria

I was framed!!!! Someone left that on my desk!!!!!

\---

**From:**  
**To:** **JYPI-ALL**, FACILITIES MANAGEMENT <facman@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject: **Re: re: Bringing Food Out Of The Cafeteria

CHANSUNG HWANG tried to recall this message.

\---

**WEEK ONE**

Over the past decade, the potato festival portfolio has claimed the careers of two Team Leaders, one Section Chief, and about half a dozen trainees and interns. Some say the portfolio has been cursed since the day company President J. Y. Park leaned back in his chair ten years ago during a Fabrics meeting about men’s underwear exports and said: “But what are we doing about Korean potatoes?”

The most ambitious iteration of the potato festival to date has been a series of roadshows scheduled across Southeast Asia. They had made it as far as bringing in a shipment of potatoes to Thailand before a contained case of potato blight had hit several suppliers, scuppering all further plans. Rumour has it that the Team Leader who presided over this now spends his days quietly in the Daegu office.

Jaebeom does not want to go to fucking Daegu.

“Are you… okay?” says Jinyoung, who is sitting across from him in Meeting Room 2.

“Sorry?” Jaebeom says, snapping out of his thoughts.

“You just said ‘Daegu’ very forcefully under your breath,” says Jinyoung. “After sitting in silence for five minutes.”

At the other end of the table, the two trainees, Bambam and Yugyeom, nod furiously. 

Jinyoung gestures towards them. “Do you want them to introduce themselves?”

“I know who they are,” Jaebeom replies.

“Sure,” says Jinyoung. “Do _you_ want to introduce yourself?” he adds, with a meaningful look. 

“Yeah, um, okay,” says Jaebeom. He looks over at the trainees. Bambam seems vaguely unimpressed, while Yugyeom has been holding his pen poised over his office-issued memo pad since the beginning of the meeting. “I’m your Team Leader.” 

For a split second Jaebeom sees Jinyoung squint at him in -- bewilderment? disapproval? -- but it vanishes the moment Jaebeom catches sight of it, to be replaced with Jinyoung’s Assistant Team Leader face; the one that says, ‘I can find it in myself to be nurturing but you’d better fucking perform’. 

“I’m Park Jinyoung, your Assistant Team Leader.” 

For Jinyoung to even be able to say that is an insane achievement. In the history of the company, they’ve never had someone with only a high school equivalency certification join the trainee programme, let alone make the shift from contract to permanent staff. There had been campaigning from the Sales section chiefs and petitions to HR involved, if Jaebeom recalls correctly. And amidst all of that, Jinyoung had learned somehow to stop leaving his flank open; to put on something -- a way of speaking, perhaps, or maybe a suit that actually fit him, fucking _finally_ \-- that now makes people steer clear, makes them keep whatever remarks they want to make strictly under their breath. 

And now, all of Jinyoung’s effort is going to potato hell. 

Jaebeom resists the urge to simply lay his head down on top of the potato industry overview Jinyoung had somehow managed to produce in the span of one morning. Instead, he looks over to Mark, who is physically present at this meeting but has the blank look of someone who is possibly trying to recall whether he had inadvertently skipped leg day. 

Also his hair is vaguely purple now, which he told HR was because he’d suffered a terrible miscommunication with his hairdresser (“_It’s my Korean_,” he’d said in English, and everyone had been able to hear the nervous giggling from the other end of the line), but is probably because he knew it would make him look even more like a K-pop idol. 

“_Nice hair_,” is what Jinyoung had said to Mark in English, when he’d first moved into the row of cubicles that now formed Special Team 1, because apparently Mark can rouse himself enough to actually tutor Jinyoung in English every fortnight. Jinyoung, who hadn’t even been able to take a message in English when he’d first started, and had spent the better half of an afternoon running back and forth in the office begging Jaebeom to answer every phone call. 

Mark pauses in his possible leg day speculation to notice Jaebeom looking at him, and gives Jaebeom a smile he’s probably practiced in the fucking mirror. He’s like one of those stupid magazine photoshoots in which idols put on suits and pretend like they’re office workers, except they’re all smiling and laughing, which really does nothing for Jaebeom’s suspension of disbelief. 

And then, all of a sudden: the beginnings of an idea. 

Jaebeom sits up, causing Yugyeom to actually jump in fright and drop his pen. 

“Yes?” says Jinyoung. “Should we reconvene this meeting a little later or--”

“If BTS can go on a world tour,” says Jaebeom slowly. “Why can’t the Korean potato?” 

\---

“I think,” says Youngjae, “that you might really be losing it.” 

Jaebeom, huddled under the scant shelter of the rooftop staircase exit such that he is just barely out of the rain, takes a drag of the cigarette Youngjae has very kindly furnished him. “Do you think they give you severance pay if you leave due to insanity?” 

“I don’t think they give you severance anything, to be honest,” says Youngjae. “Also I’m shocked that your team is actually going along with this.”

“By ‘my team’ you really mean Park Jinyoung, don’t you?” Jaebeom replies.

Youngjae rolls his eyes in a, _yes, obviously_, and lights his own cigarette.

Jinyoung’s words, exactly, had been: “Go big or go home, I guess?” 

And then he’d done the thing where he hadn’t quite smiled but the corners of his eyes had crinkled ever so slightly, and Jaebeom had suddenly felt like an intern again, grudgingly having lunch with Jinyoung in the cafeteria because apparently Jaebeom hadn’t been enough of an asshole to be able to just ignore Jinyoung’s staring into space as he chewed alone. But apparently Jaebeom’s assholery _had_ extended to him wolfing down his food in double time and leaving before Jinyoung had finished. He had done this _every time_, as if this bizarre dine-and-dash routine would somehow have negated the fact that yes, he did in fact spend almost every lunch of the week with Park Jinyoung. 

“You eat really well,” Jinyoung would invariably say as Jaebeom rose to leave, even though Jaebeom’s own mother has always described Jaebeom -- _her only son_ \-- as resembling the monster from _The Host_ at the dinner table. 

“What’s working with him like, anyway?” Youngjae is asking. “I heard he was good.”

He’s so fucking _smart_, is what Jinyoung is. Whatever the problem, he always seems to be several steps ahead, that brain of his whirring away while Jaebeom’s is still fogged by panic and a general sense of doom. And he’s got a way with the trainees, too -- earlier, Jaebeom had returned from a meeting to discover a draft deck of slides on his desk that had been prepared not by Bambam but Yugyeom, who, when not walking into glass doors or panicking about his future, can apparently make rather decent presentations. Even Mark has somehow been mobilised, having been given the task of double-checking all the translations from English. 

Jaebeom shrugs. “He’s good.” 

“Is that a note of admiration I’m hearing in your voice?” asks Youngjae, in mock wonder. “Can it be that Team Leader Im is _actually impressed _by someone who isn’t himself?”

“He had better fucking be good,” Jaebeom says. “We pitch in two days.”

\---

“You know,” Jinyoung says, “there are rumours that you don’t actually have an apartment and that HR gave you special dispensation to live under your desk.”

It’s three in the morning and Jinyoung has been gnawing on the same piece of dried cuttlefish for the better part of fifteen minutes, socked feet curled up in his chair. After the trainees and Mark had left at around midnight, he had taken it upon himself to pore over the reports from two years ago to identify pain points they can overcome. 

In other news, Jaebeom’s entire continued existence is a fucking pain point. His whole head throbs every time he scrolls to the next slide of this interminable presentation, and his back is maybe acting up again.

“I do have an apartment,” he says. It’s a rather nice one at that, probably in part due to the fact that Jaebeom doesn’t really properly live in it. He leans back in his own chair and shuts his eyes for a blissful moment of marginally less agony. “Last year was just a very busy time in the world of… steel.”

“Sure,” says Jinyoung around a yawn, sounding almost indulgent. Then he says, “If you’re having another one of those jaw clenching headaches again you should probably go to sleep.” 

“How did you--” Jaebeom begins, then decides he cannot be bothered to investigate why Jinyoung knows or remembers this about him. He considers staying up just to prove a point, then decides that he shouldn’t have to prove anything to Park Jinyoung. 

“How is it that we’ve made it this far and we’re _still_ the ones pulling the all-nighters?” he says instead. 

Jinyoung doesn’t reply; just presses his hands together and holds them up by his ear in the universal gesture of _fuck off and go to sleep_. 

Later, when Jaebeom has finally found the optimal position on the floor of his new cubicle (said position being the one where he won’t wake up to a view of the thousand year city of dust between his desk and the cabinet), it occurs to him that he’d slipped and said ‘we’. 

He won’t do it again, he thinks. He shouldn’t. 

\---

“And so,” says Jaebeom, fully riding out a second wind borne of one triple-shot latte, half a protein bar and literally dumping his face in a bowl of ice water, “we shall usher in the next wave of the _hallyu_ \-- and introduce to the world the exquisite and fascinating delight that is Korean-grown potatoes.” 

Twenty minutes before, he’d stood outside the conference room with Bambam on his right and Yugyeom on his left, trying to check the last pages of the report printouts that Jinyoung had been holding out in front of him while Yugyeom had tried to feed him his latte through a straw. 

“Okay,” Jaebeom had said, as he’d reached the last page, “I feel insane. Do I look insane?” 

“Yes,” Bambam had replied, the same time that Jinyoung had said, “You’re going to kill this.” 

_Why are you being so nice to me_, Jaebeom had thought hysterically, but he had then been distracted by having to hand Yugyeom back his metal straw in order to chug the latte straight from the cup. 

“Team Leader fighting!” Yugyeom had said, taking Jaebeom’s empty cup and almost dropping it. 

Jaebeom had turned round, smoothing his hands down his face and taking a deep breath to centre himself. He had still been able to feel Jinyoung’s eyes on his back as he pulled open the conference room doors. 

Then he had stepped through and become Team Leader Im Jaebeom, all confident affability, calm and competent and _absolutely_ not sick with worry over whether his entire career thus far would be tanked by a bunch of potatoes. 

“I mean,” says Department Head Jung, after a long pause, “it seems like a solid enough idea.” 

There is some mild nodding from the people in Resources. Jaebeom wonders what the repercussions would be if he fainted right here and now in front of the projector screen. 

“It’s decided then,” Department Head Jung says. “I’ll send this up for approval.” 

Jaebeom bows deeply as everyone files out of the room, and then he straightens up to see the trainees all but tumbling through the doors, Jinyoung following in their wake. 

“How did it go?” asks Jinyoung. 

“Collect Mark,” says Jaebeom. “We’re going for drinks. _Celebratory_ drinks.” 

\---

**From:** SUNMI LEE <sunmilee@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** **SP-1_ALL**  
**Subject:** CVs for Internship Round 2

Dear Special Team 1,

Please see attached for the CVs of the 9 interns you will be helping to allocate and oversee in the next three weeks.

Feel free to reach out if you have any further questions.

Best wishes,  
Sunmi LEE  
Assistant Manager  
Human Resources | Talent and Recruitment

Attachment: CVs_round2.zip

\---

**From:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** SUNMI LEE <sunmilee@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: CVs for Internship Round 2

Dear Assistant Manager Lee,

I’m not sure if there’s been some sort of mix-up, but I don’t recall internships being within our team’s purview?

Kind regards,

Jinyoung PARK  
Assistant Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: CVs for Internship Round 2

this is slightly embarrassing but internships _are_ actually meant to be within our purview :(

Jaebeom IM  
Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: re: CVs for Internship Round 2

???????????????????????????????????????????????????????

explain

Kind regards,

Jinyoung PARK  
Assistant Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: re: re: CVs for Internship Round 2

It was a precondition for getting you on the team. 

I’m sorry!! These are desperate times!

Jaebeom IM  
Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** SUNMI LEE <sunmilee@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: CVs for Internship Round 2

Dear Assistant Manager Lee,

Please ignore my previous email. Will look into this. 

Kind regards,

Jinyoung PARK  
Assistant Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**WEEK TWO**

“And so all we have now is a _promise_ of support from the New York office, no suppliers whatsoever, and nine fucking interns that the other teams keep telling us they have no capacity to take,” says Jaebeom. “Also my Assistant Team Leader hasn’t spoken to me for three days after finding out that I’d agreed to taking on internships in exchange for him.”

Jackson pauses in the middle of taking one more glistening gym selfie. 

“I just said what’s up, man,” he tells Jaebeom amiably. “I didn’t really need the whole story.”

Jaebeom and Jackson are only nominally gym buddies in the sense that they both have a habit of using the company gym at around five in the morning. For Jaebeom, this is mostly so he can avoid the crowd and do his back exercises in peace. For Jackson Wang from Textiles Team 3, it is probably so he can take all the ‘beast mode’ selfies he wants without having to Photoshop out all the other people in the background.

Sometimes Youngjae will send Jaebeom a screenshot of one of Jackson’s Instagram Stories, which invariably feature Jackson smouldering for the camera while somewhere far behind him is the sad figure that is Jaebeom: joggers pulled up to his waist, tangled up in a resistance band with his eyes half closed.

“I worked with Park Jinyoung on the Dalian octopus matter,” says Jackson, switching angles and lifting his tank top to blind Jaebeom and his Instagram followers with his exposed abs. “He was one cold motherfucker.”

“Is that so,” Jaebeom asks neutrally.

“You know how there was that whole thing where a couple of the barrels had fermented squid mixed in with the fermented octopus?” says Jackson, “And they sent an army of interns to go sort the squid from the octopus?”

Jaebeom remembers this well, more from the stench that had wafted off the returning interns than from anything else.

“Yeah? So he marched in to the suppliers’ office and stared them down until they admitted to the fuckup,” says Jackson. “You could’ve fermented more octopus in that room, that’s how terrifying it was.”

“Surely he must have said something to them,” Jaebeom says.

“Yeah, he did,” replies Jackson. “He said: ‘Squid is not octopus,’ and then waited until they apologised.”

“Ah,” says Jaebeom, fully able to imagine this scene after having had to spend the past three days communicating with Jinyoung via notes passed through Yugyeom, or email. Bambam has been sending Jaebeom listings for bigger and bigger bouquets.

“Anyway,” Jackson says, “do you think you could take a couple candid shots of me just like… using the battle ropes or something sexy?” 

“How about no,” replies Jaebeom.

Jackson shrugs. “It was worth a try I guess.”

Later, after Jaebeom has showered and eaten and changed back into one of the three rotating work suits he keeps in the office, he makes his way to the encampment of interns currently occupying their only meeting room, and points at the nearest one. 

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Hwang Hyunjin,” the intern replies, with a confident energy reminiscent of Bambam.

Jaebeom digs out his wallet and fishes out a few notes. “I need you to run a quick errand.”

\---

The intern Hwang Hyunjin returns at lunch with two giant takeaway bags, bowing awkwardly at the entrance to their cubicle row. 

“Wow, is that _food_?” Yugyeom asks, even though he has literally just eaten the extra banana Mark had discovered at the bottom of his backpack.

The intern scurries past Yugyeom, Bambam and Mark’s cubicles, heading straight towards Jaebeom, who jabs a finger in Jinyoung’s direction. 

The intern stops in his tracks. With some trepidation, he turns to face Jinyoung’s cubicle and bows very deeply. 

“Yes?” says Jinyoung, not pausing in his typing.

“We bought some food,” stammers the intern, glancing round at Jaebeom for help.

_For the team_, Jaebeom mouths.

“F- for the team,” the intern adds.

“Thanks,” says Jinyoung flatly. “Could you leave it on the table beside the files.”

The intern sets down the bags and as good as sprints away. 

Everyone else swivels around to look at Jinyoung, even Mark. In the neighbouring cubicle row, a few members of IT Sales Team 2 are now also watching avidly, fingers poised over their keyboards presumably to instant message live updates of the unfolding drama.

Jinyoung finishes the email he is typing and hits ‘send’ with a pointedly loud click. 

With a sigh, he rolls his chair back towards the table and reaches for the closest takeaway bag. He unknots the bag, and looks inside.

The entire cluster of cubicles is now deathly silent, except for the sound of IT Sales Team 2’s trainee frantically and repeatedly hitting the exclamation mark on her keyboard. 

Jinyoung sticks his head close to the bag and inhales deeply. 

Then he looks up.

“We can have the grilled eel,” he says, sounding slightly mollified, “in the break room.”

He takes the bags and leaves, not even glancing round to see if the rest of the team is following.

“How did you know,” Bambam breathes, looking at Jaebeom with newfound admiration. “_Grilled eel. _How did you _know_?”

“Lucky guess,” Jaebeom says, aware of how entirely unconvincing he sounds.

While the rest of the team heads to the break room, Jaebeom lingers behind, not quite sure if he should follow. Then his phone lights up with a message from Mark: _jy asks if ur coming 2_

Jaebeom stands up so quickly he bangs his knee against the side of his desk. 

In the break room, they’ve already unpacked all the food. Jaebeom slips in just in time to see Jinyoung stuffing the inaugural sesame leaf-wrapped grilled eel into his mouth and chewing, cheeks full, with a look of contentment on his face. Jaebeom says nothing; just settles in at the table between Yugyeom and Bambam. 

It is admittedly weird that he remembers this, but Jaebeom has not forgotten the time during their first year of training when Jinyoung had gone home over a long weekend and come back all smiles, chatting happily away with then-Assistant Team Leader Hwang about having eaten his weight in charcoal grilled eel at his parents’ restaurant. 

“There’s nothing like it in Seoul,” Jinyoung had said, while Jaebeom had huddled in the corner of the lift with his earphones still in, trying not to notice the way Jinyoung’s face lit up when talking about home.

“Nothing that isn’t stupidly expensive by comparison, you mean,” Hwang Chansung had replied. 

“Nothing that isn’t basically just on the house,” Jinyoung had said with a laugh, as they had exited the lift. 

Now Jinyoung wraps a piece of eel and holds it out to Jaebeom.

“You’re going to need the energy,” he says, as Jaebeom stares at him in shock.

Yugyeom gives a little cheer.

\---

“We can’t have a potato world tour,” says Jinyoung, lifting his face wearily from his hands, “if we don’t have any potatoes.”

It seems the curse of the potato festival is also known among the small-to-medium potato farmers of the Republic of Korea. Despite Yugyeom and Bambam’s best efforts, no one has wanted to entertain even a telephone call. The last fellow Bambam had called had gone on an impassioned rant about potato blight before bursting into what might have been tears of rage.

“I can’t call him again,” Bambam had told them, shakily replacing the phone receiver. “He said he would remember my _name_.”

“I think,” Jaebeom says now, leaning back in the meeting room chair, “we might need to do site visits.” 

On the other side of the glass, three displaced interns hover with their laptops, trying to work on their presentations while also checking to see if Jaebeom and Jinyoung’s meeting might be ending soon. 

Their displacement isn’t Jaebeom’s fault. They’d scurried out automatically upon seeing Jinyoung approaching.

“Can we get the Steel Team to take at least one more intern?” Jinyoung snaps, as one of them overbalances and thunks his laptop against the glass. “Surely they could use an extra person to, I don’t know, read a graph or something.”

“I’ll try,” says Jaebeom, because all his books on managing talented individuals say that he should pick his battles.

“Also we don’t have the time for site visits,” says Jinyoung. 

“Also we don’t have potatoes,” Jaebeom points out.

“Fuck,” says Jinyoung, burying his face back into one hand. “‘Rock, paper, scissors’. Loser goes, and takes Yugyeom with him.” 

Jaebeom makes a face. “I’m not taking Yugyeom to a farm.” His sheer excitement at seeing a chicken would probably kill Jaebeom on the spot. 

“Well then you’d better win,” says Jinyoung. 

Jaebeom loses. 

Then they return to their cubicles, and Mark informs them that Yugyeom has gone to see a doctor because he tripped on a box of rivets and possibly fractured his toe.

Jaebeom and Jinyoung exchange looks.

“Bambam has five conference calls with our satellite offices,” says Jinyoung, because Bambam is truly the best trainee. 

“Well I’m not taking _Mark_,” Jaebeom replies. 

Which is how Jaebeom and Jinyoung end up on the six a.m. train to Gwangju, bearing sixteen boxes of ginseng between them.

“Wake me up when it’s our stop,” says Jinyoung, when they’ve boarded the train after a perfunctory hello on the platform, his face pale from lack of sleep. He produces, from within the depths of his backpack, a small rolled-up bundle that, when released, explodes into a purple monstrosity of a memory foam neck pillow.

“Sleep tight,” Jaebeom says, then wonders if that’s something he shouldn’t have said to a colleague. 

“Fucking Steel Team and their stupid rivets,” Jinyoung mumbles, and drops right off, leaving Jaebeom alone in his low-grade potato panic.

He tries to read a book instead, a new one entitled ‘When Things Go Wrong: 50 Management Disaster Case Studies’, which might possibly not be the best choice of titles in the given circumstances.

After Jaebeom has gotten through Management Disasters numbers eleven to eighteen, as well as tried to unwrap and consume a triangle kimbap as silently as possible, Jinyoung stirs.

“It’s not our stop,” Jaebeom says, not looking up from the great bedbug-driven retail strike of 2007.

“I know,” Jinyoung croaks, sounding slightly sulky. “I just dreamt I was scrolling through a neverending Gantt chart.” He slaps his hands over his face and groans.

“Have you had the dream where everyone turns into a potato yet?” Jaebeom asks, dog-earing a page that contains a wholly unnecessary illustration of a bedbug. 

“_No_, that’s awful,” Jinyoung replies, unbuckling the tiny strap that connects the two ends of his incredibly ergonomic neck pillow. “What’s wrong with your subconscious? And is there any food?”

Jaebeom reaches into his own bag and pulls out a second triangle kimbap, which Jinyoung receives gratefully. “How is it that you’ve not packed any snacks?” 

“I did,” says Jinyoung, peeling the centre strip of plastic with a flourish, “but it’s easier to ask you.”

Jaebeom sincerely does not know how to feel about that.

Jinyoung, on the other hand, seems very pleased to have received a free kimbap, enough that he’s willing to roll his neck pillow back up and pull out the work folder from his backpack. 

“Have you _seen_ this absolutely beautiful itinerary Bambam prepared?” Jinyoung says, tracing seaweed-flaked finger down the list of farms Bambam has arranged for optimal accessibility.

“Yes,” says Jaebeom, who had found it perfectly adequate. “But didn’t we make lots of itineraries like this back in the day?”

“You mean _you_ did,” says Jinyoung, around a massive mouthful of rice. “Not all of us can be Im Jaebeom.”

And Jinyoung surely doesn’t mean it that way, but Jaebeom is nonetheless taken back to the day he had just been made Assistant Team Leader and had run into Jinyoung in the lobby after receiving the news. That has been around the period that Jinyoung’s two-year contract had been coming to an end, and it hadn’t been at all certain at the time if Jinyoung would be allowed to stay on. 

“Congratulations,” Jinyoung had said, because it was unbelievable how news travelled in this place.

“Thanks?” Jaebeom had said, feeling immediately guilty.

“In record time, too,” Jinyoung had added, with a little smile. “As expected.”

“I heard about your situation,” Jaebeom had said, feeling uncomfortable at Jinyoung’s graciousness. 

Because Jaebeom may have worked hard for this but they all knew Jinyoung had worked _as_ hard, if not harder. And they both knew who was sharper, between the two of them. Who was quicker; better at spotting things and coming up with decent solutions. But it had been Jaebeom, with his fancy elite university degree and his parents who could send him to _hagwon_ after school and English camps in the summer, who had gotten Assistant Team Leader. 

Jinyoung, in the meantime, with his years of _baduk_ tournaments and having to work part-time while training because Seoul is _expensive_ and he couldn’t afford to burden his parents, had been stuck tussling with HR and Finance and the powers that be on whether he could even have the chance to stay.

Jinyoung had just shrugged. It had been a very particular type of shrug, which Jaebeom had seen him do before after a tough conference call or after someone had chewed him out for something that hadn’t been his fault. Like he’d been physically shrugging off whatever it was that was bothering him. 

“It’s not fair,” Jaebeom had said, stupidly, angrily. “We came in at the same time and you’ve done all this great work--”

“Well,” Jinyoung had interrupted, with an opaque smile, “we can’t all be Im Jaebeom, can we?” 

And then the lift had arrived and Jinyoung had gotten in, and Jaebeom had just stood there until the doors had slid shut.

“Did I say something wrong?” Jinyoung asks now, peering curiously at Jaebeom. 

“No,” says Jaebeom quickly.

Jinyoung stuffs the last bit of triangle kimbap into his mouth. “Let me guess,” he says, “are you thinking about potatoes again?” 

Jaebeom shrugs, and lies. “When am I not?” 

\---

**From:** MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** Bang Chan <bang_chan@snu.ac.kr>; Kim Woo-Jin <teddybearwoojin@daum.net>; Lee Min-ho <lee_know@hanmail.net>; Seo Chang-bin <changbinseo1@yonsei.ac.kr>; Hwang Hyun-jin <hwang_hyun_jin@snu.ac.kr>; Felix Lee <lee.yong.bok@korea.ac.kr>; Kim Seung-min <kimseungmin3@yonsei.ac.kr>; Yang Jeong-in <jeonginyang2001@daum.net>; Shin Ryujin <shin.ryu.jin@korea.ac.kr>  
**Cc:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** shots

hi interns

we are taking you guys out for welcome drinks this friday 

meet at the ground floor lobby at 8.00pm 

team leader has given me his card because he is stuck in the countryside w assistant team leader :-)

prepare to have FUN 

if anyone talks about work we will make them buy a round

Thank you and best regards,

Mark TUAN  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: shots

Mark,

₩250,000 maximum. PLEASE keep to budget. 

_Sent from my iPhone_

\---

**From:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>; JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: shots

I’ll throw in another ₩50,000 to make it 300. 

Don’t let Yugyeom walk into anything else.

_Sent from my iPhone_

\---

**From:** MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: re: shots

thx mom

Thank you and best regards,

Mark TUAN  
Special Team 1

\---

**WEEK THREE**

“I don’t understand,” says Jaebeom, when they return, exhausted, to the hotel room Bambam had managed to book for them on extremely short notice. “None of it makes sense.”

“What do you mean?” Jinyoung asks, setting down the entire cardboard box’s worth of fresh produce that they had been presented with earlier that day. 

“I am the _son_ of farmers!” Jaebeom exclaims. “How is it that they like you so much better?” 

“I’m sure they liked us both equally,” Jinyoung says diplomatically, even though the number of times he had been called a ‘handsome, reliable young man’ over the past three days would suggest otherwise. 

Jaebeom, on the other hand, had spent most of the visits having to finish all the potato salad they had been presented with -- both his and Jinyoung’s. The closest he had gotten to compliments all weekend had been remarks about how he ate very well, and also, according to the couple from farm number seven on Bambam’s list, that he resembled ‘that kind boy Sam-shik from down the hill’.

“Sam-shik must be very good looking,” Jinyoung had said, ignoring the sound of Jaebeom choking on his fourth potato salad of the day. 

“Well, he eats very well,” the wife had replied, not addressing Jinyoung’s comment at all. “Just like your Team Leader here.” 

In any case, Jaebeom had definitely made the right call in deciding to visit the farms. Of the fifteen they had visited over the past three days, only one farmer on the list (who may or may not have been Bambam’s potato blight man) had declined their offer of collaboration. 

“So,” says Jinyoung, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “Now we have potatoes.”

“Now we have potatoes,” Jaebeom agrees, dropping a plastic bag that is exploding with leeks by the bedside table. 

“Do you want first shower?” Jinyoung asks, more of a suggestion than a question, because he flops down on the bed and pulls out his phone to scroll through the day’s messages. 

Not for the first time these past three days, Jaebeom reflects on how for all Bambam’s vaunted talent, he _still_ hadn’t been able to wrangle them separate rooms. 

Jinyoung laughs, then, at something on his phone. 

“Yugyeom sent round the photos from Friday night.” 

“Oh?” says Jaebeom, pulling out his own phone. 

In the first photo -- a group shot of everyone at a barbeque place -- almost everyone in it is overexposed or has red eye except for fucking _Mark_, who sits luminous behind the charcoal grill. It’s ridiculous, Jaebeom thinks. It looks exactly as if a bunch of office workers had run into a celebrity on his off day and had requested to take a picture. 

“Mark looks like a proper senior taking out his juniors for a treat,” says Jinyoung, oblivious to Jaebeom’s boggling.

“Well, technically it’s _our_ treat and he’s a proxy,” Jaebeom grumbles.

“Technically it’s _your_ treat and I get to claim credit because of my fifty-thousand won stake,” Jinyoung replies, still scrolling through the photos. “Look at you, generous Team Leader Im Jaebeom, just handing out his card to his grateful underlings.” 

“Look at _you_,” Jaebeom says quietly. “Assistant Team Leader.” 

Jinyoung sets his phone down on his chest and turns his head towards Jaebeom. He’s smiling, just a little. “If you’re going to remind me about how you had to teach me how to get paper from the supply room in my first week, save your breath. I remember very well.” 

“Actually,” Jaebeom replies, “I was thinking about the time I answered all your team’s telephone calls for you.” 

“Oh, goodness,” Jinyoung says, with a shudder. “You were so long-suffering.” 

“I was _raging_, you mean,” says Jaebeom, with a bitter laugh. 

“No.” Jinyoung sits up on his elbows. “I don’t remember you being particularly angry. I’ve seen what you’re like when you’re angry.” 

Jaebeom glances at his feet, discomfited by the way Jinyoung is looking at him now. “Believe me, I was mad.” 

“Maybe you were,” Jinyoung replies. He is silent for a while, and then he says, “Do you remember the day in the lift when you tied my tie for me?” 

Of course Jaebeom remembers. He had encountered Jinyoung in the lift one morning, early in their internship, wearing his oversized grey suit from the first day and looking very much like he’d spent the night at a nearby _jimjilbang_. His shirt, slightly rumpled, had been buttoned up all the way to his collar, but his tie had been stuffed haphazardly into one pocket. 

“I think they expect us to be properly attired at all times,” Jaebeom had said. 

“Ah,” Jinyoung had replied, shifting his paper bag of clothes -- stained from that fermented soybean factory visit, perhaps -- to his other hand so that it was hidden from Jaebeom’s sight. “My tie. I’ll, uh…”

“Don’t you know how to tie one?” Jaebeom had asked.

Jinyoung had shrugged helplessly. “I’ve never needed to?” 

“Couldn’t you just watch a fucking YouTube tutorial or something?” Jaebeom had snapped, but he had also held out his hand for Jinyoung’s tie. 

Hesitantly, Jinyoung had handed it to Jaebeom, and then glanced down at the floor. “Are you sure -- what if someone comes in--”

“I’m only doing this the _one time_, all right?” Jaebeom had told Jinyoung, looping the tie around his own neck and tying a quick half windsor. If Jaebeom had been more of an asshole, he would probably have said something mean about Jinyoung thinking Jaebeom would tie it _around Jinyoung’s neck_ like a devoted wife. Instead, he had settled instead for yanking it off over his head and tossing it towards Jinyoung, who had caught it with fumbling hands. 

“Thanks,” Jinyoung had said. 

“Yeah,” Jaebeom had grunted, and slipped out the doors the moment the lift had reached his floor. 

“I guess you figured it out in the end,” Jaebeom says now.

Jinyoung laughs. “Yeah, I guess I watched ‘a fucking YouTube tutorial or something’.”

“I’m--” Jaebeom begins, maybe because their recent potato success has made him reckless, or because there’s something about having this conversation here -- away from the office -- where it’s okay, perhaps, to say softer things; to not always be ready for a fight. 

“I’m sorry I was such a fucking asshole to you.” 

Jinyoung straightens his elbows and flops back down onto the bed. “You were, a little,” he agrees. 

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that,” says Jaebeom. 

“But mostly,” Jinyoung continues, “I remember you were kind.” He shuts his eyes. “You _are_ kind.” 

_No, I’m not_, Jaebeom thinks. He also thinks: _fucking Bambam and his inability to book a second fucking room_.

“I’m going to shower,” says Jaebeom instead. “We’ve got an early train tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, sure,” replies Jinyoung. Then he adds, “If I order chicken and beer will our generous Team Leader pay for it too?”

\---

“What are our odds,” says Department Head Jung, waylaying Jaebeom in the corridor in the morning of the first day he’s back from Gwangju, “of getting Lee Seung-gi to promote this festival?”

_Zero to none_, thinks Jaebeom. “I’ll look into it,” he says instead.

“So Department Head Jung just said something funny,” says Jaebeom as he walks into the team’s weekly update meeting, because the only alternative to full-on weeping in the rain at this point is to bring a sense of levity to the discussions. (This was, incidentally, the key learning point from the bedbug debacle of Management Disaster 19.)

Then he catches sight of the already shell-shocked faces in the room -- _including_ Mark, which Jaebeom takes to be a very bad sign. 

“At least let me sit down before you give me the news,” says Jaebeom. 

“Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?” asks Jinyoung.

“Um,” says Bambam, “I don’t know if you should really be calling the “good news” good news in this case?”

“Okay,” says Jaebeom, kneading his fingers into his temples in preparation. “Just tell me in no particular order.” 

“So the President played golf with the Vice Minister for Agriculture, Food and Rural Affairs over the weekend,” says Jinyoung in his best and most calming voice, “and after that they had lunch, and at lunch they had--”

“Don’t say it--” says Jaebeom.

“...potato salad--” Jinyoung says.

“Fucking_ potato salad_,” Jaebeom whispers, ill with the memory of the close to fourteen dishes of it he had just consumed over the past three days.

“And they got to talking about the potato portfolio,” Jinyoung continues. “The short version of it is that the Ministry now wants to collaborate with us.” 

“Am I to assume,” says Jaebeom, “that this is the bad news?” 

Collaboration with a government agency is a bit of a double-edged sword, in that while they would likely have an easier time of securing the right venues and networks overseas, the degree of control they will need to cede would also result in a lot more friction. For one thing, they will now need to wait for every detail to be painstakingly approved not only by their own management, but by the Ministry. 

And also there’s the whole thing where the stakes on this cursed potato portfolio will be raised incredibly, impossibly higher. 

He can already imagine how the first paragraph of Management Disaster number fifty-one would open. He has the exact illustration of a potato to recommend to the publishers. 

“That was definitely the good news,” says Yugyeom helpfully. 

Jaebeom closes his eyes. “Go on.”

“The EU just revised their phytosanitary requirements for the import of several categories of plant products,” says Jinyoung, “including potatoes and sweet potatoes. We may not be able to get the certification done in time.” 

“_Fuck_,” says Jaebeom with feeling. “You should really have led with that.” 

\---

**From:** JUNHO LEE <junholee@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** TAECYEON OK <taekyeonok@jypinternational.com>; NICHKHUN HORVEJKUL <nichkhunhorvejkul@jypinternational.com>; WOOYOUNG JANG <woyoyoungjang@jypinternational.com>; MIN-JUN KIM <minjunkim@jypinternational.com>; JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** CHANSUNG’S FAREWELL

Dear all, 

Chansung is leaving us next week and I am determined to make him WEEP, alright? I’m talking flowers, I’m talking drinks, I’m talking surprise appearances from you guys and like a scrapbook of like pictures and shit from when we were trainees -- the _works_.

Pl send me photos etc and any other ideas by this Friday, thanks.

Yours truly,  
Junho LEE  
Manager  
Resources | Business Development

\---

**From:** NICHKHUN HORVEJKUL <nichkhunhorvejkul@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** TAECYEON OK <taekyeonok@jypinternational.com>; JUNHO LEE <junholee@jypinternational.com>; WOOYOUNG JANG <woyoyoungjang@jypinternational.com>; MIN-JUN KIM <minjunkim@jypinternational.com>; JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: CHANSUNG’S FAREWELL

Junho if you spent half that effort on your actual work I guarantee your team’s stats would be way better than they are now.

Best wishes,

Nichkhun HORVEJKUL  
Manager  
Finance | Planning & Analysis

\---

**From:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** NICHKHUN HORVEJKUL <nichkhunhorvejkul@jypinternational.com>; TAECYEON OK <taekyeonok@jypinternational.com>; JUNHO LEE <junholee@jypinternational.com>; WOOYOUNG JANG <woyoyoungjang@jypinternational.com>; MIN-JUN KIM <minjunkim@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: CHANSUNG’S FAREWELL

Hope to be there; can also get the flowers. Sorry we can’t do more, there’s been a lot going on!

Kind regards,

Jinyoung PARK  
Assistant Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** NICHKHUN HORVEJKUL <nichkhunhorvejkul@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** TAECYEON OK <taekyeonok@jypinternational.com>; JUNHO LEE <junholee@jypinternational.com>; WOOYOUNG JANG <woyoyoungjang@jypinternational.com>; MIN-JUN KIM <minjunkim@jypinternational.com>; JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: re: CHANSUNG’S FAREWELL

Jinyoungie,

Did you just use the royal ‘we’ on your hyungs???

Best wishes,

Nichkhun HORVEJKUL  
Manager  
Finance | Planning & Analysis

\---

**From:** JUNHO LEE <junholee@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** TAECYEON OK <taekyeonok@jypinternational.com>; NICHKHUN HORVEJKUL <nichkhunhorvejkul@jypinternational.com>; WOOYOUNG JANG <woyoyoungjang@jypinternational.com>; MIN-JUN KIM <minjunkim@jypinternational.com>; JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** CHANSUNG’S FAREWELL

Presumably he’s referring to himself and jb, you dick

Yours truly,  
Junho LEE  
Manager  
Resources | Business Development

\---

**WEEK FOUR**

In ‘A Pocket Guide to Inspiring Confidence Vol. II’, one of the first things a beleaguered middle-manager can do when faced with a crisis is to say calming phrases and try not to show his or her own emotion, unless, of course, that emotion is confidence.

Which is why Jaebeom had, at that fateful meeting the previous week, simply looked around the room and declared, as convincingly as he could, “Well, this isn’t insurmountable.” 

“Which part exactly are you referring to?” Bambam had asked, ever precise.

“All of it,” Jaebeom had replied, and then tried to distract them with: “Also Department Head Jung was wondering what our odds of having Lee Seung-gi promote this festival were.”

“Who is Lee Seung-gi?” one of the interns huddled at the back of the meeting room had whispered to his neighbour, who had rolled her eyes.

“Oh goodness,” Jinyoung had said, “are we _that_ old? Are they _that_ young?”

“He’s from Australia,” Mark had helpfully supplied.

“Thank you, Mark,” Jaebeom had told Mark, while at the same time wondering how he had managed to miss the _nine interns _sitting at the other end of the room when he’d earlier walked in. 

And then, because there hadn’t been any other option but to push through, Jaebeom had calmly listed out all the additional items they now needed to look into, and delegated them accordingly. 

When all of that had been done and the team had been filing out of the room, he’d waved over the grilled eel intern -- Hwang Hyunjin; he would remember this name when filling in the internship evaluations -- and said, “Could you please help take everyone’s coffee order and run downstairs for me please?”

“Of course,” Hwang Hyunjin had said, notepad already in hand and ready to scurry off towards the cubicle.

“Hang on,” Jaebeom had said, reaching into his pocket. “I haven’t given you the money yet.”

“This might be too much,” Hwang Hyunjin had said, when Jaebeom had counted out the notes. 

“Yeah,” Jaebeom had said, “get me a pack of cigarettes and a lighter as well.”

This is how Jinyoung finds Jaebeom up on the roof the next week, crouched in the company’s ridiculous rooftop garden and smoking his third cigarette of the day beside a row of basil. 

“It’s only Tuesday,” Jinyoung says, picking his way past some evening primrose to loom over Jaebeom. He doesn’t say, _I thought you’d quit_, perhaps because he’s being kind.

Jaebeom says nothing; he doesn’t even get up. He just angles himself away so he doesn’t blow smoke onto Jinyoung’s impeccably tailored trousers.

“You don’t have to be so stoic all the time, you know,” Jinyoung continues. “We’re your team.”

Earlier that day, the Australians had written in to say that they, too, would require a longer quarantine and certification period before they would grant an import permit. Which had been something they’d anticipated and planned for from the start, except that somehow along the way, someone had retrieved an outdated set of certification criteria and passed that on to the suppliers. With all the certification work now needing to be re-done, the timelines were becoming dizzyingly tight. 

The crisis had been so dire that Mark -- beautiful Mark -- had actually volunteered to call the suppliers himself. 

“Thanks,” Bambam had told him, while deep in the throes of composing an urgent clarificatory email in German. Yugyeom, in the meantime, had been on the phone with the Ministry of Agriculture person to try and negotiate a liability cap in the third draft of the sponsorship agreement they had yet to sign. 

“I’m not trying to be stoic,” Jaebeom says now, taking another drag of his cigarette. “I’m trying to keep it together so everyone can _work_.” 

Jinyoung tugs up his trousers and crouches down beside Jaebeom, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks younger like this; less like the Park Jinyoung that interns run away from and more like Jinyoung when they were at the farms, being doted on by _ahjummas_ and holding up baby potatoes with soil-covered fingers. 

“What are you so afraid of?” Jinyoung says, after a pause. 

Jaebeom glances at him, incredulous. “What do you _think_ I’m afraid of?” he asks. “I’ve got two trainees whose careers could be destroyed by this before they’ve even properly started. I’ve got Mark, who’s only just found something he can be bothered to make a fucking effort for, and it could very well still amount to nothing.” He glances back down at his feet, where the ash from his cigarette has scattered. “And there’s you.”

“And there’s me,” Jinyoung repeats. 

“Ah, _fuck_,” says Jaebeom, stubbing out his cigarette on a ‘pebble of hope’ that someone had painted during one of their stupid CSR events two years ago. “Why do we--” He pauses. “Why the fuck do we do this, even.” 

“Do… work?” 

“Do all this dumb shit.” He presses the base of his palms into the hollows of his eyes, in hopes that the coldness of his palms will soothe away the headache he’s been having ever since they’d returned from Gwangju. “Stake our fucking lives on these portfolios and sales. What’s at the top? What the fuck are we climbing? Why are we even climbing it?” 

“I suppose we climb,” says Jinyoung quietly, “because we tell ourselves we can’t stay still. Because we’re scared we’ll fall off.” 

“Won’t we?” Jaebeom says. “Doesn’t it terrify you?” 

Jinyoung is silent for a moment, just resting his chin against his arm. 

“I’ve fallen, before,” he finally says. 

_Fuck_, Jaebeom thinks. Of course Jinyoung has. To have played _baduk_ competitively from childhood in the hopes of turning professional -- Jinyoung may have climbed a different ladder from Jaebeom’s, but he had climbed, nonetheless. 

“One of the _baduk_ masters used to tell me this,” Jinyoung says. “He used to say, ‘if you lose one stone, the game still continues’. At the time, I understood it only literally. When I got older, I thought about it in terms of the tournaments that I lost.” He reaches out and picks up another pebble, a palm-sized one painted brightly with a purple Batman logo. 

“Then I lost… everything. And I realised the game is bigger than _baduk_.”

“Life isn’t _baduk_,” Jaebeom says automatically.

Jinyoung smiles. “Isn’t it?” 

\---

What Jaebeom does is that he goes to Department Head Jung. 

“My team needs more people,” he says. “For the avoidance of doubt, I am not asking and I am not negotiating.”

Department Head Jung peers up at Jaebeom from over the steel industry update he is reading.

“If you want this potato festival to actually happen,” says Jaebeom, “you need to give me the people I want.”

“I’m all ears,” Department Head Jung replies.

“I need someone of suitable experience who has actually done regulatory work, particularly with the EU,” says Jaebeom. “And I need someone who speaks business Mandarin.”

Department Head Jung considers this for a moment.

\---

**From:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** (no subject)

Jaebeom IM  
Team Leader  
Special Team 1

Attachment: potato.jpg

\---

**From:** YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: (no subject)

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

Youngjae CHOI  
Steel Team 2

\---

**From:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: (no subject)

Jaebeom IM  
Team Leader  
Special Team 1

Attachment: HR - Circular - Appropriate Language in the Workplace.pdf

\---

**WEEK FIVE**

“In conclusion,” says Youngjae, face flushed from his third round of soju but still perfectly capable, Jaebeom knows from experience, of churning out a fifty-five-slide Board update complete with charts if needed, “I hate each one of you deeply, and from the bottom of my heart. Especially Jaebeom-hyung.”

“You should probably try not to offend the person who’s paying for all the meat,” says Jinyoung reasonably, even though he’s leaning against the table just to stay upright after the two politeness shots Yugyeom and Bambam had taken turns pouring for him. 

On Jaebeom’s other side, Jackson and Mark are having a passionate discussion on the relative benefits of the paleo and keto diets, graciously including Yugyeom in their conversation even though his sole contribution is to yelp, “_No_ rice?” in shocked disbelief at various intervals.

With the arrival of Jackson and Youngjae (on temporary loan from their respective teams) has come not only Jackson’s stupid chair-replacing exercise ball and the endless buzzing of Youngjae’s mobile phone, but also much-needed reinforcement. 

Youngjae has stepped in to oversee the certification issues with the EU, and Jackson has started working with Yugyeom in covering the Asia-Pacific region. Mark, in the meantime, has ably taken on the job of liaising with the New York office for the North American leg of the potato tour, his BLACKPINK videos now playing in a far smaller window on his second monitor. 

The upshot of this has been that Bambam, now only overseeing the two stops in Latin America and one more in Saudi Arabia, has been freed up for the dubious task of finding out whether Lee Seung-gi is interested in promoting Korean potatoes across the globe. 

The polite answer from Lee Seung-gi’s management has been that no, they did not think that potatoes were currently within the range of products that Lee Seung-gi would be able to endorse at this juncture. But the whole concept of the potato tour is apparently so bizarre that Lee Seung-gi had mentioned it to Na Young-seok PD, who is now seriously considering making a spin-off of _Youn’s Kitchen_ in which a new, beleaguered cast attempt to run a potato-themed cafe in Boseong.

“Look at our Bambam,” Jinyoung is now saying, trying to pick up a piece of garlic with his chopsticks and not even coming close, “he aced the internship presentations with a brilliant proposal for exporting solar energy technology in India, and now he’s writing email updates on whether Kim Heechul has agreed to say the words ‘daeji potato’ at least five times on national television.”

“I’m learning a lot,” Bambam says diplomatically, using his spoon to nudge the garlic in position for Jinyoung. 

Jinyoung abandons the garlic and turns to Jaebeom instead, slinging an elbow onto his shoulder. “Did you hear that?” he asks, leaning heavily on Jaebeom. “Bambam is learning a lot.” 

“Bambam is very polite,” Jaebeom replies, “and you are very drunk.” 

“I really mean it,” says Bambam. “When came in I didn’t know what to expect. But I’m very grateful.” 

“_I’m_ not,” Youngjae interjects. “I was halfway through a complex negotiation to renew the rivets contract before I was sucked into this potato cesspit.”

“What happened to ‘it’ll be okay if it’s you’?” Jaebeom asks.

Youngjae waves a hand. “Simple flattery,” he says. “You’ve smoked so many of my cigarettes that I was hoping you’d reimburse me at some point.” 

“I thought you said you’ve quit!” Jackson exclaims, interrupting his own monologue about macronutrients. 

“I have!” Jaebeom says, and when Youngjae glares he adds, “I did, at least. And I will. Again.”

Freed, now, from Jackson and Mark’s nutritional discussion, Yugyeom tilts his head to one side. “Has Assistant Team Leader fallen asleep?” he asks. 

“No he hasn’t,” mumbles Jinyoung, from where he’s now fully resting his forehead on Jaebeom’s shoulder. “He…” 

The rest of the team leans in closer to hear what Jinyoung is saying. 

He emits a gentle snore. 

“_Wow_,” says Jackson. “I guess that explains why he kept finding ways to surreptitiously spill his maotai when we were in Dalian, and then developed that mysterious cold just before the second day’s dinner.”

They are interrupted, just then, by the restaurant _ahjumma_ coming by with a tray of sides. “Would you young men like a top-up of our house potato sa--”

“_No_,” everyone says emphatically, apart from Jinyoung, who simply curls his arms around Jaebeom’s arm as if sensing the presence of potato. 

\---

Try as he might, Jaebeom can find no explanation for how he has ended up being the one to send Jinyoung home. 

Certainly, Yugyeom and Bambam had been there with him when they’d stuffed Jinyoung into the taxi, Yugyeom taking great care to cover Jinyoung’s head with his hand and inadvertently elbowing Jaebeom’s face in the process. Mark had retrieved Jinyoung’s bag and umbrella and placed both into Jinyoung’s lap, while Jackson had gotten Jinyoung’s address and Youngjae had hailed a taxi. 

And somewhere in the bowing and the shouted “_rest well_”s, Jaebeom had somehow been ushered into the taxi with Jinyoung (“Take care of Assistant Team Leader!” someone -- possibly Bambam -- had called), and they had set off before Jaebeom could even think to protest.

Jinyoung, as it turns out, has not moved out of his aunt’s house. 

Jaebeom discovers this when the taxi arrives in the same neighbourhood and drops them off at the foot of the same steep slope that Jaebeom had once hauled Jinyoung up, years before. 

“Come on, you fucking lightweight,” Jaebeom mutters, slinging Jinyoung’s bag across his own shoulders while Jinyoung sways dangerously against him. 

It’s slower going this time, because Jaebeom is no longer a young man fresh out of university and Jinyoung is no longer whippet thin from bad food and long hours crouched before a _baduk_ board, but they make it up to Jinyoung’s house eventually. 

“You’re that friend of his,” is what Jinyoung’s aunt says when she answers the door. She is older now, but her eyes are no less bright. “How nice to see you again.”

“He only had three glasses of soju, ma’am,” Jaebeom says, even though he suspects that this has probably happened enough times that an explanation is no longer necessary.

True enough, Jinyoung’s aunt just shakes her head. “That’s why he’s out like a light,” she says, gesturing for Jaebeom to come in. 

“I’m so sorry to disturb you at this time,” Jaebeom tells her.

She waves a hand. “You know where his room is, don’t you?” she adds, disappearing off into another room and leaving Jaebeom to drag Jinyoung to the same tiny bedroom as before. 

With some difficulty, he gets Jinyoung onto the mattress on the floor, and then places Jinyoung’s bag by his desk. Jinyoung sprawls there in his suit, mumbling something in his sleep, and Jaebeom feels a pang of sympathy for how awful Jinyoung is going to feel the next morning. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he crouches down beside Jinyoung and removes his tie. Then, his socks. And then, since he’s already gone to these lengths, Jaebeom pulls Jinyoung upright and tugs off his suit jacket as well. 

“That’s all the help you’re getting,” Jaebeom tells him, reaching for the duvet and covering Jinyoung with it. He places Jinyoung’s socks on the floor by his bag and lays the suit jacket and tie on the back of Jinyoung’s study chair. 

The walls of his room, Jaebeom notices, are no longer filled with _baduk_ pattern sheets. Instead, they have been replaced with faded photocopies of pages from what Jaebeom recognises to be the dictionary for trade terms. And, on the patch of wall just above his study desk, Jinyoung has also put up a row of three photographs. The first is presumably of Jinyoung’s family -- his aunt is there, as well as an older couple who must be his parents and two young women who must be his sisters. They all have the same smile, Jaebeom notices; that same crinkling warmth that Jinyoung gets when he’s truly relaxed and happy. The Jinyoung in the photograph -- impossibly young -- is being held in a headlock by one of his sisters, but he is beaming behind his glasses despite that. 

The second photograph is Jinyoung with Sales Team 3, outside a temple probably in Thailand. They’re still in their office clothes and must have been taken there after a meeting, judging from the briefcase of documents Jinyoung is clutching to his chest. Hwang Chansung is there, with one arm slung around his Assistant Team Leader and his other hand grabbing Jinyoung by the elbow, probably to keep him from exiting the frame. Jinyoung is looking into the camera, exhausted but pleased. 

The last picture is a group photograph from one of the dinners they’d been taken out on as trainees, with Lee Junho, Ok Taecyeon, Hwang Chansung and others crowded along the table with the rest of the trainees. Jaebeom remembers that dinner as being the one where, still annoyed from having had to carry Jinyoung home the last time, he had snatched away every drink Jinyoung had been given and downed it himself. 

“Has our Jinyoungie found himself a black knight?” Nichkhun had teased at some point as he had filled Jinyoung’s glass on purpose. 

“I just really like the taste of alcohol,” Jaebeom had declared mulishly, reaching for Jinyoung’s glass. 

Later, Jinyoung had waited with Jaebeom for a taxi, but Jaebeom, drunk as he had been, had still had the presence of mind to tell him not to get in.

“I’ll be fine,” he remembers slurring as he’d fumbled with the door, and Jinyoung had frowned concernedly at him through the window. 

The photograph must have been taken early in the dinner, Jaebeom thinks, examining it now, because he’s not so far gone that he can’t look into the camera and smile. In fact, everyone at the long table is looking into the camera and smiling, except Jinyoung, who seems to have not heard the photographer’s call. He’s glancing, instead, at Jaebeom beside him. There’s something in his expression, something soft and wondering, that makes Jaebeom want to reexamine all his memories of that night anew. 

There is a cough at the door. Jaebeom turns to see Jinyoung’s aunt there, holding a stack of spare bedding in her arms. 

“It’s late,” she says. “Why don’t you just rest here for the night.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t--” Jaebeom begins. 

“Young man,” says Jinyoung’s aunt sternly, “I had to climb onto a crate in order to get these covers down.” 

Which is how Jaebeom ends up sleeping on the floor beside Jinyoung in Jinyoung’s childhood bedroom, in his work trousers and a borrowed Korea Baduk Association t-shirt that surely must have been severely oversized on Jinyoung. 

He sets his alarm for half past four because Jackson had said something about meeting him at the gym at the usual time. But when he awakens, sunlight is streaming into the room and he can hear the sounds of Jinyoung and his aunt clattering about outside the door.

Jinyoung sticks his head in and says, “Oh, you’re up,” like it’s the most natural thing in the world to have had Jaebeom stay over for the night. He smells faintly of medicated oil and has a flesh-toned pain patch slapped onto the back of his neck. “My aunt made breakfast even though I told her she didn’t need to.”

Jaebeom sits up, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. 

Jinyoung narrows his eyes. “I didn’t throw up on you, did I?” he asks.

“No, why--” Jaebeom begins, then glances down and remembers he’s wearing Jinyoung’s old shirt. “Well,” he says, “unlike someone, I was not too inebriated to change into something more comfortable.”

Jinyoung just laughs, then clutches his head.

“What, no apology?” asks Jaebeom, untangling himself from the covers and twisting round to stretch his back. “No, ‘I’m sorry for making you have to pull me up the treacherous hill to my house, and also that I have no alcohol tolerance to speak of despite being in fucking _sales_’?” 

At least Jinyoung has the good grace to look somewhat guilty. “Breakfast?” he says, as if that is sufficient to make it up to Jaebeom. 

“You’re getting me the really nice coffee from that cafe on the way in from the train station,” says Jaebeom, folding the bedding and rising to his feet. “The one where they take forever to hand grind the beans in front of you and there are six different types of substitute milks to choose from.”

“But hyung,” Jinyoung says -- and Jaebeom catches how, in the enclosed space of Jinyoung’s home, he’s not said ‘_Team Leader_’ like he otherwise would -- “you don’t even taste your coffee. You chug it like you wish someone would just administer it to you intravenously.” 

“That’s irrelevant,” Jaebeom replies. “It’s the principle of it.”

“Their coffee costs at least seven thousand won!” Jinyoung protests. 

Jaebeom pauses. “Fuck, really?” he asks. “Why are the _interns_ always drinking it?”

Jinyoung shrugs. “It’s a mystery.” 

Later, after they’ve returned to the office and Jaebeom has changed into one of his extra suits so no snide remarks can be made about _yesterday’s clothes_, Jinyoung disappears for fifteen minutes and returns with a paper cup. 

“Apparently this was brewed for you by ‘Soo-hyun’,” Jinyoung says, handing it to Jaebeom. “They thought it was very important that we know that.” 

Jaebeom takes a sip. “What is this supposed to be again?” 

Jinyoung smiles a smile that is as cheeky and delighted as the one he’d had in his family photo. “It’s an oat milk potato latte.” 

Youngjae, who has been listening in on this conversation, lets out a bark of laughter. 

Jaebeom buries his face in his hands.

\---

**From:** KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Fw: tvN Updates

Dear all, 

A rep from tvN just called to update that they will be greenlighting a short-run series by Na Young-seok PD, subject to whether parties (i.e. us and hopefully the Ministry for Agriculture) are able to come to a favourable sponsorship arrangement. 

Still doubtful Lee Seung-gi is interested but their prospective cast will likely include Kim Heechul (who, apparently, has a keen personal interest in Gwangju potatoes?). Updates to come on any others, as well as details on the format and prospective air date.

Warm regards,

Kunpimook BHUWAKUL  
Trainee  
Special Team 1

Attachment: tvN - TV Sponsorship Package - Variety Short Series.pdf

\---

**From:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: Fw: tvN Updates

That’s great news, Bambam! Thanks for your hard work on this. Please let me have your comments and suggestions on the sponsorship package before we float this by the other departments and Legal. 

Jaebeom IM  
Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: Fw: tvN Updates

Holy shit that’s amazing! 

Drinks tonight??

Youngjae CHOI  
Steel Team 2 | Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>;  
**Subject:** Re: re: re: Fw: tvN Updates

u know im always up for drinks folks

just not sure if team leader has any more clothes to change into if he stays out another night ;-)

Jackson WANG  
Textiles Team 3 | Special Team 1

\---

**WEEK SIX**

The next two crises, namely the Potato Russeting Scare and the Our Inglewood Venue Is Overrun By Raccoons Incident, pass without more than the usual amount of scrambling.

But it’s different, somehow -- in spite of the problems, in spite of the general mayhem that is each day: Mark, presenting a slideshow during team update entirely composed of pictures of the rampaging raccoons; Yugyeom, outraged to discover that russeting on a potato is only okay if it’s a russet potato.

Now, they just keep going. Now, Mark just follows up his raccoons slideshow with a list of alternative venues, and Bambam whips out plans B and C for what to do with the still edible but possibly russeting non-russet potatoes. Now, instead of Maintaining a Calm and Collected Exterior as instructed by chapter seven of the Pocket Guide Vol. II, Jaebeom just straight up tells Jackson and Youngjae to “please use your indoor voices because I am this close to fucking losing it”. (They do speak softer, if only for five minutes, but it’s worth it just to see Jinyoung’s quick, grateful glance.)

Now, Jaebeom sends the interns down for team coffees but doesn’t count out extra notes for cigarettes. He shells out the eight thousand won -- _eight thousand _\-- one morning to switch Jinyoung’s cappuccino to a potato latte, only to discover that Jinyoung doesn’t actually hate the taste of it.

“Something’s changed,” says Youngjae, one night when they’ve adjourned to the rooftop for the duration of Jackson’s aggressive sun salutation exercise break.

“What, my no longer smoking again?” asks Jaebeom.

“No,” says Youngjae, “something else.” He draws his cigarette hand in a smoky circle around Jaebeom’s face. “It’s like you’ve gone from being an asshole with no chill to being... an asshole with some chill.”

“Still an asshole, though,” Jaebeom remarks.

Youngjae laughs. “Can’t change _that_.” 

He even manages to make time for the ridiculous farewell Lee Junho organises for Hwang Chansung. It starts with surprise cake in the break room, continues with a kidnapping to a nearby restaurant, and culminates in a heartfelt and off-key rendition of an original song written and composed by Ok Taecyeon.

Jaebeom misses this last segment because he has to leave early to sort out a slight hiccup concerning a bill of lading, but from what he can make out from the grainy video sent to him, most of the lyrics consist of Hwang Chansung’s name (and variations thereof). The tune is basically identical to Rain’s ‘How to Avoid the Sun’.

_This is uniquely awful_, Jaebeom texts Jinyoung, who had been the one to send Jaebeom the video. 

_Team Leader Hwang is actually weeping_, Jinyoung replies. _Unclear if it’s because he’s moved or laughing too hard_. 

_I’m certain it’s the latter_, types Jaebeom. 

_Want to bet?_ Jinyoung replies. _If you’re right I’ll get you another potato latte_.

_That_, Jaebeom texts back, _is absolutely a lose-lose--_

“Could you stop smiling at your phone and concentrate on this fucking bill of lading?” snaps Jackson, bouncing into view on his gym ball-chair. 

“I’m just checking the exchange rate,” Jaebeom says automatically.

Jackson raises one eyebrow. “Dude. I didn’t ask and I honestly don’t want to know,” he says. “After this is done, you can hold hands with the exchange rate and take the exchange rate to eat tteokbokki, for all I care. But for now can you please _focus_?” 

In his cubicle at the end of the row, Yugyeom tries and fails to stifle a giggle. 

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Jaebeom tells Jackson, but he also puts his phone away.

Later, after they have sorted out the mess and Jackson is back on the phone bro-ing it up with their Taipei shipping agent, Jaebeom’s phone lights up with a new message.

It’s not from Jinyoung, but Nichkhun: _He’s been delivered safely home, in case you were worried_.

_?_ Jaebeom types. _why would I be worried_

Nichkhun replies with two beer emojis. _He seemed to think you might be._

The next morning, Jinyoung arrives at the office smelling strongly of medicated oil again, and wearing his glasses because he is apparently too unwell to put in his contacts. 

“How much did you have?” Youngjae asks, as Jinyoung eases himself slowly into his chair and then slides open his drawer to fumble around for a hangover recovery drink. 

Jinyoung ignores Youngjae’s question in order to ask another, more pressing, one. 

“Why on earth,” he croaks, “did everyone text me the exchange rates this morning?”

\---

The press conference for the JYP International Potato World Tour takes place on a Friday. The Minister for Agriculture gives a speech, as does company President J. Y. Park, accompanied by a newly-unveiled potato mascot creatively named ‘Gamja’. 

As Bambam had predicted, they had not managed to persuade Lee Seung-gi to come on board. Instead they have Kim Heechul, inexplicably dressed in farmer chic and holding a Gwangju potato aloft as if it is a Golden Disc Award.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Jinyoung murmurs to Jaebeom, when they are standing at the back of the room during the five-minute corporate video clip about President J. Y. Park’s ten-year dream for the Korean potato to be known and loved across the world. 

“I can’t believe the marketing team spent five weeks deliberating and _still_ decided to name the fucking potato mascot ‘Potato’,” Jaebeom hisses back. 

Jinyoung lets out a laugh before he can stop himself, and claps a hand over his mouth in horror. Thankfully, whatever sound he’s made is drowned out by the cresting music that accompanies a shot of a child reverently accepting a soil-covered potato from a farmer.

“The fucking _nerve_,” Jaebeom continues, less from genuine outrage now and more because of the way it makes Jinyoung’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. “_Gamja_ _the gamja_.”

“I think Team Leader and Assistant Team Leader have finally lost it,” Yugyeom tells Bambam in what he probably thinks is an undertone. Bambam ignores him in favour of urgently inquiring if the potato salads for the press are prepped and on standby. 

“_Pull yourselves together_,” Youngjae whispers, which only serves to set Jinyoung off even more. 

It’s as if all the cumulative stress of the past six weeks is now being sublimated into the most inappropriate and uncontrollable giggling fit. Jinyoung is bent almost double now, clutching his clipboard and walkie talkie to his chest with one arm and covering his mouth with the other. 

“We have a man down,” deadpans Jackson. 

“Do you think someone should take him outside?” Mark asks, suddenly the voice of reason. “The video clip is about to end.” 

Someone -- possibly Youngjae, but it could equally be Bambam -- pokes Jaebeom in the back with a pen. 

Not unreluctantly, Jaebeom grabs Jinyoung’s arm and pulls him from the room. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jinyoung wheezes the moment they’re out the doors, tears still streaming from his eyes. “This is so fucking… unprofessional.”

And the catering team comes down the corridor with trolleys of potato salad, which only makes Jinyoung double over in horrified laughter again.

Jaebeom, caught between amusement and actual concern, just leads him down the corridor through the doors to a stairwell, sitting him down on the stairs. Then, after a pause, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, which he hands to Jinyoung as well. Jinyoung takes it and wipes his eyes, fanning his face with his other hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, once he’s calmed down. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It happens.” Jaebeom shrugs. “You don’t need to apologise.” 

Jinyoung just shakes his head, and presses the backs of his hands to his cheeks. “Oh goodness, we’re missing the stupid potato salad tasting.” 

“Fuck it,” says Jaebeom, sitting down next to Jinyoung. “The team’s got it under control.” 

“‘The team’, huh?” Jinyoung says.

“Our team, I guess,” replies Jaebeom. “At least for now.”

“They’re a good bunch, aren’t they?” says Jinyoung. 

“I have my doubts about Yugyeom--” Jaebeom begins. 

Jinyoung elbows him. “_No _you don’t,” he says. “I just heard you telling Youngjae about how quickly he’s improved.”

“It was a low baseline,” says Jaebeom, thinking of the five ‘THIS IS A GLASS DOOR’ signs that now festoon the lift lobby entrance. “I mean, he’s _okay_ now, I guess. Mark, too.” 

“Thank you,” says Jinyoung quietly, “for leading us.” 

It’s as much of a jolt through the heart as the first time Jinyoung had thanked him. Jaebeom looks down at his shoes. “You should probably wait till the tour is actually over,” he says. “They’ll make us do 360 evaluations and then you can fill mine out with nice things like, ‘not as much of an asshole as you might think’.”

Jinyoung laughs. “You know,” he says, “you have a tell. When you think you’re being mean but you end up doing something nice in spite of it.” 

Jaebeom jerks his head up. “I don’t--” he begins, not even quite sure what he’s protesting at. 

“It’s a very particular sort of jaw clench,” Jinyoung continues, “and also the way your brow furrows…” he reaches out, almost unthinkingly, but stops short of actually touching his index finger to Jaebeom’s forehead. He snatches his hand back. “I’m sorry.” 

“Glad to know I’m extremely transparent,” says Jaebeom. His throat has gone extremely dry. 

Now it’s Jinyoung’s turn to look at his shoes. 

And Jaebeom -- Jaebeom doesn’t know what _this_ is, what Jinyoung means when he says things like this. So he defaults, instead, to the principle set out in chapter four of ‘Managing Talented Individuals’, which is that one should Encourage The Heart. 

“You’ve been… tremendous,” says Jaebeom, “these six weeks. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

“Thanks,” Jinyoung replies. Then, after a pause, “We should probably head back.” 

“Yeah,” says Jaebeom, getting to his feet. “Yeah, we should.”

Jinyoung stands, and holds out Jaebeom’s handkerchief. “Thanks for this,” he says. 

“Don’t try to pretend you didn’t just blow your nose into it,” Jaebeom says, making a face, because he doesn’t quite know what to do with the way Jinyoung is looking at him. “At least you could fucking wash it first.” 

“Ah,” Jinyoung says. He reaches over and, this time, really touches the tip of his finger to Jaebeom’s brow. “Right there.” 

\---

**From:** MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>;  
**Subject:** North American leg

Hi all, 

Quick update on my conference call with the New York office: they will be able to support the events in Newark, Dallas, Inglewood and Oakland, but _not_ Toronto (for budgetary / resourcing reasons -- they were very vague). They’ve secured all the vendors and Suzy has promised remote support, but it looks like we may need to send someone from our team to Toronto. 

Should I start on the paperwork for that?

Thank you and best regards,

Mark TUAN  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>;  
**Subject:** Re: North American leg

I don’t understand why they are citing budgetary reasons when we have already undertaken to reimburse their costs.

Nonetheless, given the time constraints, please proceed with making the necessary arrangements. Thanks Mark. 

Jaebeom IM  
Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>;  
**Subject:** Re: re: North American leg

anyone need the exchange rate for canadian dollars?

Jackson WANG  
Textiles Team 3 | Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>  
**Cc:** YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>;  
**Subject:** Re: re: re: North American leg

If nobody is going to explain this reference please kindly stop making it on the group mailing list, thanks. 

Kind regards,

Jinyoung PARK  
Assistant Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>  
**Subject:** Re: re: re: North American leg

If you don’t fucking let this joke die, I swear 

Jaebeom IM  
Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**WEEK SEVEN**

With the first stop of the Potato World Tour just one week away, everything kicks into high gear. Now, Jaebeom has to put on his bruxism mouth guard when camping overnight in the office, because the rest of the team is also there and Jaebeom’s teeth grinding is “very off-putting”.

“Not my words,” Jinyoung adds, when he tells Jaebeom this, while everyone else looks guiltily at their screens. 

They no longer have the interns, whose assessments had taken place the previous week and had now all returned to their respective homes to wait on tenterhooks for the results. (Amidst the flurry of emails, Jaebeom had not forgotten to put in a word to HR to hint that the grilled eel intern Hwang Hyunjin had ‘worked well with the team’.)

In their absence, however, they have lost a steady stream of energetic young people ready to help copy documents and purchase coffee, and have to rely, instead, on the dubious help of one Hwang Chansung, who has one week left of his notice period but has already capably redistributed all his remaining matters.

“I only offered to be polite, not to _actually help_,” Team Leader Hwang says, and promptly sub-delegates all tasks to his former trainee Kim Won-pil, now of IT Sales Team 2.

“I have _actual work_ to do,” Won-pil says, but goes on the coffee run anyway because Jinyoung asks him nicely.

“Sorry if I offended you,” Jaebeom tells Team Leader Hwang, offering him a reconciliatory cigarette from the pack Jaebeom no longer smokes. 

“Are you sure you have time to be dicking around on the rooftop with me right now?” says Team Leader Hwang, taking the entire pack. 

“For you, anything,” Jaebeom replies, and laughs when Team Leader Hwang rolls his eyes.

“So how are you finding it, then?” Team Leader Hwang asks. “Having a team of your own.”

“Well, no one has been run over by motorcycle yet,” says Jaebeom wryly.

“Fuck you, that happened during his free time and he admitted he was looking in the wrong direction.”

“They drive on the same side of the road as us in Vietnam,” Jaebeom says, because he’s _looked this_ _up_. “Why the fuck would he be looking in the other direction?”

“Jinyoungie, a mystery,” says Team Leader Hwang. “Honestly, between the two of us, you might have a better chance of figuring him out.”

“You’ve been his team leader for years,” Jaebeom replies.

“Gravity has been an observable phenomenon since the beginning of time,” says Team Leader Hwang, “it doesn’t mean anyone is able to explain it.”

“Actually,” says Jaebeom, “I’m pretty sure the average middle-schooler can.”

“Whatever, smartass,” Team Leader Hwang replies. “You know what I mean.”

Jaebeom shrugs. “Any tips, at least? Parting words of advice?”

“What, for being Team Leader or for being Park Jinyoung’s Team Leader?” 

“Both, if you would,” says Jaebeom. 

Team Leader Hwang takes a drag of his cigarette and taps it over the disused mini fountain everyone has been using as an ashtray. 

“Here’s the thing,” he says, after a pause. “Everyone here’s learned in high school or university or wherever that you need to be a certain way to get ahead. We’re all like fucking sharks on the outside but inside we’re fragile as fuck. That’s where all the dick measuring comes from, because deep down nobody is fucking _good enough_, really, and we all know it.”

“When Jinyoungie came to our team I thought he needed to learn how to put on all the outside stuff,” Team Leader Hwang continues. “And he did, slowly.” He laughs. “It’s funny -- some days he’d even say or do things that kind of sounded like you.”

Jaebeom blinks, startled by the suggestion that Jinyoung had ever tried to emulate him.

“But in the end, the outside stuff’s what it is -- packaging.” Team Leader Hwang takes another drag of his cigarette. “Ever played _baduk_?”

Jaebeom shakes his head.

“It’s fucking nerve-wracking,” Team Leader Hwang tells him. “And Park Jinyoung played _baduk_ competitively for fifteen years. _That’s_ what’s underneath. He can read you in a second and he won’t even blink. He can take a hit or ten and come back up because he understands winning and losing far better than a lot of us elite university pricks who’ve made it this far; whose biggest failure was a spelling test in sixth grade.”

Team Leader Hwang stubs out the remains of his cigarette. “Anyway, that’s just what I think,” he says. “You’ve got a great team, is what I’m saying.”

“Sounds like you’ve figured out an awful lot, actually,” says Jaebeom after a pause.

Team Leader Hwang winks. “Like you said. Apparently they’ve managed to work out gravity.”

Later, when Jaebeom is back at his desk, he watches Jinyoung instruct Bambam on how to better negotiate over the phone, and wonders if Team Leader Hwang is right. If Jinyoung had really read Jaebeom in a second and seen his fragility; his stupid anger and fear. 

If Jinyoung had understood all that about Jaebeom and had still crossed the office, that afternoon on the first day, to ask if Jaebeom could help him answer a phone call.

\---

“I can’t go to Toronto,” Jaebeom says. “We’ve got four key conference calls scheduled that week for the Southeast Asia leg and the time difference with Canada will be brutal.” 

“Well,” Jinyoung replies, “I suppose Mark could go alone.” 

They are having this discussion in the meeting room at a quarter past midnight, having chased at least Bambam and Yugyeom home to rest. 

“Just because Team Leader is a lunatic doesn’t mean all of you need to live here too,” is what Jinyoung had told them. To the other three, he’d simply said, “I’m sure you’d all fuck off home if you could, so I’m not going to ask.”

Now, back at his cubicle, Mark is eating fried chicken and watching a BLACKPINK episode of _Running Man_ while waiting for their conference call to start. Jackson has gone, predictably, to the gym, while Youngjae has adjourned to the IT team’s empty meeting room to take a quick nap. They have all long since abandoned their ties; Mark is straight up just wearing a baby pink hoodie that looks extremely basic and also very expensive. Jinyoung has on tartan bedroom slippers.

“I don’t know if Department Head Jung was comfortable with that,” says Jaebeom, shoving up his shirtsleeves and leaning back in his chair. “He seemed evasive when I mentioned it.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “So _now_ he’s not confident in the abilities of ‘Mark, from America’?” 

Jaebeom sighs, and slumps down to rest the side of his head against the table. “Would you mind terribly,” he says, looking up at Jinyoung, “if you had to go?” 

Jinyoung glances briefly down at Jaebeom, before suddenly becoming very interested in the laminated instructions for using the conference phone. He shrugs. “If you think I should.”

“Are you sure?” asks Jaebeom.

“You don’t have to ask me if I’m sure. It’s work,” Jinyoung says, still not looking at Jaebeom. “Someone’s got to do it.”

“Thank you,” Jaebeom tells him, stifling a yawn. He shuts his eyes for a second. 

“If you fall asleep like this here,” warns Jinyoung, “you’re going to regret it. Very much.”

“I’m just resting my eyes,” Jaebeom says, “for half a minute.” 

Jinyoung sighs. “You have a perfectly good sleeping bag.”

“Resting. My eyes.” Jaebeom’s eyelids feel so heavy and the surface of the table is so cool against his cheek. 

“Does your head still hurt?” Jinyoung asks, his voice quieter now, either because he’s speaking more softly or because Jaebeom really is slipping further into sleep. 

“Yes,” Jaebeom says, or tries to, but he doesn’t know if he has simply exhaled the syllable as breath instead. 

Jaebeom fancies, for a moment, that he feels Jinyoung bring his hand to hover by Jaebeom’s face, fingers just milimetres from his skin. He must be imagining it, he thinks; his brain must be addled from lack of sleep and from the constant, low-grade tension headache he’s learned to just live with. 

Then he feels fingers rest lightly against his hair. 

Gently, Jinyoung presses the pad of his thumb into the hollow of Jaebeom’s temple, drawing the pain to a single point of tentative pressure. 

Jaebeom exhales from the relief of it.

Bolder now, Jinyoung repeats the motion in a gentle circle. And again. And then again, pressing slower and firmer with each pass. Jaebeom feels his breath slow, his limbs becoming liquid.

Then Jinyoung lifts his hand away, and Jaebeom almost blinks awake, bereft. Except now Jinyoung is bringing his thumb to the back of Jaebeom’s neck, dragging it up the column of muscle just left of centre to press into a spot under the base of Jaebeom’s skull. 

The ache of it is so surprising and so sweet that Jaebeom gasps out loud. 

Jinyoung’s hand stills. 

“Fuck,” Jaebeom breathes, the harsh consonants of the word barely audible. 

Jinyoung presses up firmly against that spot again and Jaebeom feels his breath leave him in a ragged exhale. 

“You can’t fall asleep here,” Jinyoung repeats, and his voice is hard with -- _something_. He sounds like Jaebeom feels; wrung out, crackling with something unthinkable. 

They are interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the glass. 

Jinyoung snatches his hand away, and Jaebeom dazedly pushes himself off the table to look round. 

It’s Mark, who has wheeled himself over in his office chair, a chicken wing pinched between the thumb and forefinger of the hand he’s not using to push open the door. 

“Trigger point textbook,” Jinyoung yelps, the same time that Jaebeom says, “Nothing is happening!” 

To Mark’s credit, the expression on his face is carefully neutral. “Conference call,” he says, before shutting the door again and scooting back down the corridor on his chair. 

Jaebeom and Jinyoung turn to each other. 

“_Trigger point textbook_?” Jaebeom asks, incredulous. 

“Yes,” replies Jinyoung, who has turned rather pink. “Computer neck is a serious problem for office workers.”

Their phones light up. 

_the meeting rooms_, texts Youngjae, _have GLASS WALLS_

\---

They don’t talk about it, mostly because there isn’t any time to.

Now company President J. Y. Park demands regular updates, which he receives at the same time each day on a bluetooth headset while doing his morning workouts. This is mostly okay on days when the President is doing something relatively quiet, but there are a couple of mornings where Jaebeom finds himself having to bellow over the sound of the President’s personal spin class. 

“Assistant Team Leader! Park Jinyoung! Is going! To Toronto! With! Mark!” he shouts as politely as he can for the third time, to the collective annoyance of everyone else present in the office at eight in the morning 

With precise and deadly aim, Jackson throws a balled-up post it at Jaebeom’s head, which, when unfolded, bears the words ‘INDOOR VOICE’. 

_Fuck you_, Jaebeom mouths at Jackson, while over the phone President Park says something about the potato mascot. 

“_Sweat… is fat crying!_” President Park’s trainer shouts in the background. 

Jaebeom digs the middle finger and thumb of his free hand into his temples, and tries not to think about how much he would like a cigarette. 

Over in his cubicle, Jinyoung has pulled on the pair of massive fuck-off headphones he used to wear whenever Hwang Chansung was having his usual shouting match with Finance, and which he wears, now, when he wishes to be left alone. With his departure date looming, he’s taken to having them on for large swathes of the day, meaning that everyone who might need to speak with him is much better off dropping him an email in advance.

Jaebeom wonders, somewhat hysterically, how kindly HR would take to discovering an email to the effect of, ‘_remember that one night we were at the office and you gave me the most sublime head rub of my life on _one side of my head_ and now you’re sort of no longer talking to me_?’. He suspects not at all. 

At five forty-five p.m. the day before Jinyoung and Mark are due to fly, Jaebeom is invited into a group conversation on instant message by one Yugyeom KIM, comprising of the entire team except Jinyoung.

_Is Assistant TEam Leader ok???? _Yugyeom types. 

_What did you do this time jb_, Jackson asks.

_Why_, types Jaebeom, _do you assume that I did something!_

Youngjae starts typing something, stops, and then starts typing again.

In the meantime, Jaebeom adds: _Maybe he really doesn’t want to go to Canada._

Youngjae stops typing.

Down the cubicle row, there is a collective groan. Jaebeom looks up to see Bambam slapping himself in the forehead. 

Jinyoung rises from his seat, pulling off his headphones. He picks up a stack of folders and heads for Jaebeom’s desk. 

“I’ve prepared this just in case,” says Jinyoung, setting down the folders. “The relevant documents for each destination, points of contact, latest updates. It’s all in there, so you can just pull the correct folder if anything comes up.”

“Thanks,” says Jaebeom, very aware of how Jinyoung is still studiously not making eye contact, as well as how the rest of the team have paused in their tasks to glance round surreptitiously at them. 

_CAN WE TALK_? Jackson is mouthing in a silent, whole-body scream. 

“Can we talk?” Jaebeom repeats.

Jinyoung looks uncomfortable. “Is this about work?” he asks. “Because I was hoping to be allowed to leave a little earlier today. To pack. For tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” says Jaebeom. “Right. Yes.” 

“Yes?” Jinyoung repeats. 

“Of course you should leave earlier,” Jaebeom tells him. “By all means.” 

After Jinyoung says, “Thanks,” and returns to his desk to pack up his things, Jaebeom looks back down at his screen and sees that the group conversation has exploded with messages. 

_DOESN’T EVERYONE_ _HAVE A FUCKTON OF WORK TO DO_? Jaebeom types, and then closes the window without reading anything. 

Mark leans back and scoots into view on his chair, one hand raised in a question. “Can I go, too?” he asks. 

Jaebeom sighs. “Yes,” he says. “Please.” 

\---

**From:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>; YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>;  
**Subject:** Thanks, Part 1

Dear Special Team 1, 

At this juncture -- just one day before the start of the World Tour -- I thought it would be appropriate to let you all know that I truly appreciate the dedication you’ve shown these past weeks. A team is only as good as its people and all of you have been excellent. The effort and quality of each of your work has been nothing short of stellar.

So, thank you for your hard work. We’re in the home stretch now -- perhaps none of us will ever truly be able to enjoy potato salad, but I’m sure it will all be worth it. 

Jaebeom IM  
Team Leader  
Special Team 1

\---

**From:** YOUNGJAE CHOI <youngjaechoi@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** JAEBEOM IM <jaebeomim@jypinternational.com>; JINYOUNG PARK <parkjinyoung2@jypinternational.com>; MARK TUAN <marktuan@jypinternational.com>; JACKSON WANG <jacksonwang@jypinternational.com>; KUNPIMOOK BHUWAKUL <kunpimookbhuwakul@jypinternational.com>; YUGYEOM KIM <yugyeomkim@jypinternational.com>;  
**Subject:** Re: Thanks, Part 1

Team Leader,

GO THE FUCK HOME WHILE YOU STILL HAVE THE CHANCE.

Youngjae CHOI  
Steel Team 2

\---

**WEEK SEVEN AND A BIT**

Jaebeom wakes up -- in his own bed, in his own apartment -- to the collective sound of his phone ringing, his doorbell going off, and someone banging on his front door.

He fumbles for his phone first, answering it while sliding off the bed. 

“OPEN YOUR FUCKING DOOR,” Youngjae bellows, at an eardrum-shattering volume that can be heard both through his phone and from the other side of Jaebeom’s front door. 

Jaebeom stumbles to the door and pulls it open. Youngjae and Bambam are standing there. 

“What the fuck?” Jaebeom hisses, except the effect is generally ruined by his bruxism mouthguard preventing him from properly enunciating all the consonants. 

“We need to get you to the fucking airport,” says Youngjae.

“Whatever for?” asks Jaebeom.

“We’ll explain in the car, there’s no fucking time!” says Youngjae.

“Mark,” says Bambam more reasonably, “is indisposed and you need to go to Toronto instead.”

“What’s happened to Mark?” Jaebeom demands.

“Does it matter?” Youngjae shouts, at such a terrifying volume that Jaebeom is certain he will be receiving a noise complaint sometime in the near future, “you need to pack!” 

Between trying to pack in a hurry and locating his passport, Jaebeom doesn’t remember to remove his mouthguard until they’re bundled into Youngjae’s beat up Hyundai and speeding down the Incheon International Airport Expressway. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Jaebeom demands, pulling off his mouthguard to the collective disgust of Youngjae, who is driving, and Bambam in the back. 

“You’re going to Toronto,” says Youngjae, “because Mark tripped on a box of rivets and broke his foot.” 

“Ha fucking ha,” says Jaebeom.

“It’s true,” Bambam tells Jaebeom, shoving his phone at Jaebeom to show him a photograph of Mark with his foot in a cast.

“I keep telling them,” Youngjae says, “to put the stupid fucking rivet samples _behind_ the plastic palm tree. But do they listen?”

“Oh fuck,” says Jaebeom, feeling ill -- either from panic or from being shouted awake by Choi Youngjae, it honestly doesn’t matter at this point. “The potato curse is real. That’s the only explanation.” He rummages through his backpack for his mouthguard case. 

“Here,” says Bambam, handing it to him. “And here’s your e-ticket, which I got them to transfer to you with a waiver of the admin fee, and all the documents Mark had on him.”

“You’re getting a raise,” Jaebeom tells him. 

“Don’t listen to his nonsense,” Youngjae interjects, “that’s out of his hands.”

They arrive at the airport in record time, Bambam sprinting ahead with Jaebeom’s ticket and passport to get his boarding pass printed while Youngjae helps Jaebeom wrestle his haphazardly-packed suitcase out of the car. 

“Tell Bambam I’ll swing round to pick him up when he’s done,” says Youngjae. “And good luck.”

“Good luck?” Jaebeom repeats.

“On the potato tour, of course,” says Youngjae. 

“Of course,” says Jaebeom. 

Bambam comes tearing back out -- as fast as the electronic revolving door will allow him, in any case. He springs free of the door. 

“They’re closing the gate soon, you need to check your bag in and make a run for it,” he says. 

Which is how Jaebeom finds himself sprinting through Incheon Airport, dodging trolleys and tourists and also -- _what the actual fuck _\-- a huge standee of Gamja the _gamja_ outside the souvenir shop. 

By some miracle he actually makes it to the gate, where a very familiar figure is currently speaking firmly and politely with a member of the ground crew.

“-- you don’t understand,” says Jinyoung. “They _told me_ at the check in counter that I should bring it on board as a fragile odd-size item that weighs under the cabin baggage maximum. They said it was the same thing they do with violins. If someone had a Stradivarius would you be asking them to check it in? I am confused.”

“But sir,” says the member of the ground crew, helpless in the face of Jinyoung’s relentless reasonableness and his pleasant but nonetheless terrifying smile. “Violins are regularly shaped.”

“Ma’am,” says Jinyoung. “This mascot head is modelled after the most perfectly shaped potato in the Republic of Korea. I cannot afford to have it damaged.” 

He gestures towards the plastic-wrapped head of Gamja the _gamja_, which is sitting forlornly at his feet. “It’s not even that big when collapsed. It could probably fit in an overhead compartment.” 

“Yes, but other passengers have cabin baggage too--”

“If it helps,” says Jaebeom, “I’d be happy to put my bags somewhere else.” 

Jinyoung turns, and boggles at Jaebeom. “What are you doing here?” 

“Mark tripped on a box of rivets,” says Jaebeom, aware, once again, of how incredibly stupid it sounds, “and I’m his replacement.”

“Um,” says Jinyoung. 

“What do you think, ma’am?” says Jaebeom, turning to the Korean Airlines lady with his ten-million-won-of-extra-rivets smile. “Can we work something out?” 

They make it onto the plane with Gamja the gamja’s head, to the relieved and hostile stares of all the other waiting passengers. 

“Why are you here, again?” Jinyoung asks, after they’ve settled into their seats and Jinyoung has stopped someone from the cabin crew to remind them that he’s allergic to mayonnaise. 

“Mark’s foot. Rivets,” Jaebeom replies. “Bambam showed me a photograph and everything.”

“Yes, but,” says Jinyoung, “I could just have gone on my own. You have conference calls.” 

“Yeah, well--” Jaebeom begins, then pauses, because he honestly had not thought this far, between Youngjae’s yelling and Bambam’s calm but scathing judgment about the state of Jaebeom’s winter coat (“Are you _sure_ you only have the one coat?”). 

“Well?” says Jinyoung, one eyebrow raised. 

“I mean,” says Jaebeom. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t get knocked over by a motorcycle again, I guess.” 

“Right,” says Jinyoung. “Someone.” 

“Exactly,” Jaebeom replies. “I mean, do you even know what side of the road they drive on in Canada? Can we even put in a work travel insurance claim for a _second_ whiplash injury sustained by the same employee?”

“Will there be an internal investigation?” Jinyoung adds, while the woman in the aisle seat next to him pointedly opens and puts on a sheet mask. “Might I somehow be defrauding the system with countless neck brace and acupuncture bills?”

Jaebeom cocks his head to one side. “Do they accept claims for acupuncture?” 

Jinyoung shrugs. “I submitted the claim and it worked out,” he says. “The policy excludes therapeutic massage, though.”

“Oh,” says Jaebeom, reminded once again of why Jinyoung has not talked to him in three days. “Good to know.” 

“Yeah,” Jinyoung replies, looking slightly pink himself. 

They both speak at the same time. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything--” says Jinyoung.

“...you only did one side of my head,” says Jaebeom. 

“What?” says Jinyoung. 

“You only did one side of my head,” Jaebeom repeats, quickly.

“Oh,” says Jinyoung, looking slightly startled and more than a little offended. “I’m sorry if my spontaneous pressure point massage failed to be suitably comprehensive.” 

“And, um,” Jaebeom continues, unsure if the roaring in his ears is just him or the sound of the plane taking off. “I would like for it… to have meant something.” 

Jinyoung stares for a long moment at Jaebeom, who feels pinned to his seat. The roaring continues. 

“It did,” says Jinyoung, and Jaebeom, suddenly, is weightless. 

The seatbelt sign turns off with a ding. 

“It did mean something,” Jinyoung says. 

“Oh,” says Jaebeom. His heart is now doing the exact opposite of the thing it had done when he’d first been told about the potato festival portfolio. 

“Yeah,” says Jinyoung, pulling down his tray table so that he can comfortably set the time on his analog wristwatch. “Now I need to sleep for at least seven hours in order to adjust to the time difference.”

“Okay,” says Jaebeom, even though he badly wants to know what Jinyoung means by _something_.

He watches Jinyoung settle in with the ghastly purple neck pillow, then tries to read the new book he’s brought with him, ‘Unfinished Life: Principles of _Baduk_ in Management’. Finally, after five minutes, he reaches over and touches Jinyoung’s elbow. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “What exactly do you mean when you say ‘something’?”

From under his sleep mask, Jinyoung sighs. “What do you _think_ I mean?” he says. 

“I don’t know,” Jaebeom mumbles. 

The lady next to Jinyoung actually _turns_ _down_ the volume on _Spider-man: Far From Home_. 

“I mean,” says Jinyoung, “that you can hold my hand and take me to eat tteokbokki, if you want.”

Jaebeom boggles at him. “Jackson told you?”

Jinyoung flips up his eye mask to look at Jaebeom. “Yugyeom might not be able to tell when there’s a glass door in front of him,” he says, “but he knows exactly who he needs to tell things _to_.”

\---

**From:** FACILITIES MANAGEMENT <facman@jypinternational.com>  
**To:** **JYPI-ALL**  
**Subject:** Re: Obstruction of corridors

Dear all,

It has been less than two months since our last reminder not to leave items in the common corridors, particularly if these are heavy items (e.g., boxes of samples containing e.g., rivets). The reasons for this are twofold: first, it is a tripping hazard. Two colleagues have already been injured in the past weeks from tripping over such items. Secondly, it is a fire hazard, as these items may block the flow of traffic in an emergency situation (see above re: tripping hazard).

As we said in our previous email, we will now be publishing photographs of instances where our team have been notified of a breach of the abovementioned rule. 

[level 13_rivets.jpg]

[level 15_farewell_chansung_banner.jpg]

We look forward to your continued cooperation. 

Best regards,  
**_The Facilities Management Team_**

_PLEASE SAVE THE ENVIRONMENT AND ONLY PRINT THIS EMAIL IF ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. _

\---

**Epilogue**

Gamja Caffe Episode 8.5 Recap (mini-webisode)

To those of us devastated that _Gamja Caffe_ has come to its sweet but chaotic end, Na PD has dished out one more hot potato latte of goodness -- in the form of a special webisode. 

The Gamja team, now back in Seoul after their month in Boseong, are reunited for an afternoon to pay a surprise visit to the offices of JYP International, where the team currently planning the 2nd Potato World Tour is situated. 

The introductory captions explain that this is a cynical move by Na PD to boost advertising revenue by featuring the Anonymous Handsome JYPI Employee who appeared for 20 seconds in Episode 7 and “shook the internet”.

Lee Dong-wook is the first to arrive, as usual, showing the crew the potato keychain that the Gamja team had bought during their market visit on the final night. It’s attached to his phone, and it’s so sweet how sentimental he is about this stuff. Jisoo (BLACKPINK) and Jin (BTS) come shortly after, and the three of them sit down on a bench by some potted plants to wait for their final member, self-proclaimed ‘Potato King’ Kim Heechul (Super Junior). Dong-wook observes that Heechul is surprisingly always late considering he’d been the one knocking down Na PD’s door to make this series. (The cameras cut to Na PD, who gives him a thumbs up of agreement.) Jisoo wonders aloud if they will get a cut of the advertising fees on top of their usual appearance fee. 

Dong-wook: You are very young to be so mercenary. 

The reason for Heechul’s tardiness is revealed when he finally arrives, with a _Gamja Caffe_ coffee truck in tow. While the rest of JYPI will have the normal coffee from the truck, only Special Team 1 will get hand-made potato lattes. 

Jin: Don’t you think they would like nice coffees brewed by professionals too?

Heechul: Aren’t we professionals? 

Jisoo: (derisive laughter)

Then there’s a short clip explaining the first Potato World Tour and how it was an ambitious event to promote the Korean potato on all continents, except the shots they use are all of Heechul holding the marvellous heart-shaped potato from Episode 3, superimposed over actual footage of the world tour. 

Because Na PD is a devious man, the team now has to figure out a way to bring up all their equipment to the thirteenth floor unassisted. Dong-wook goes in to speak with security, while Jin and Jisoo scroll through netizen comments for Episode 7. Jin is particularly hurt by a comment that calls the JYPI Guy ‘more handsome than BTS’, while Heechul attempts to comfort him by saying that BTS has a reliable and hardy aspect to them, much like potatoes. 

A beleaguered Dong-wook returns (honestly, this man is the only one doing any work on this show sometimes) to say that they’ve gotten permission to use the service lift, and the Gamja team get to work. For some reason, footage of JYPI President Park Jin-young is superimposed at 70% opacity over the right-hand corner of the screen while they move the equipment into the building. Another caption explains that they had agreed to share a clip of the President but then realised that they had too much footage for the webisode. 

In the lift, Heechul brings up the ‘more handsome than BTS’ comment again and Jin is outraged (again) when Dong-wook, who had been the only one at the cafe the morning the JYPI Guy had brought the heirloom potatoes, agrees that the JYPI Guy is good-looking. 

Dong-wook: I was shocked for a moment and wondered why they sent him to deliver potatoes. But actually he wanted to meet BLACKPINK.

Heechul takes this moment to promote another variety show _on another network_ that he’s going to appear in, accompanied by cash register sound effects and the caption: ‘Sorry tvN, we couldn’t stop him as this is going on the Internet’.

Finally they reach the correct floor, and Jin runs ahead to get directions to where Special Team 1 sits. He also takes the opportunity to ask every employee he meets if Special Team 1 is ‘more handsome than BTS’ and gets generally favourable responses, except for the one gentleman who asks who BTS is. 

Jin: (crouches on the ground) 

Caption: [image of BTS] ‘~~_We are BTS_~~’

The rest of the Gamja team follow in Jin’s wake. Dong-wook is worried that they won’t be able to find enough power sockets. Jin arrives at Special Team 1’s section to find only one employee seated at the cubicle nearest to the corridor. Hilariously, Jin whips out a grainy picture of JYPI Guy on his phone to compare against that employee’s face, like it’s an Interpol investigation. The employee says that the team is at a meeting.

Jin: If your team is at the meeting, why are you here?

Employee: I need to answer their phones.

Jin: Haven’t they heard of call forwarding?

Employee: I’m only a trainee. 

The rest of the Gamja team catch up, and there’s a supercut of the camera crew having to squeeze themselves in every corner of the cramped office as Dong-wook and Jisoo attempt to plug in and set up the equipment. Heechul, in the meantime, discovers a Gamja plushie on someone’s desk and holds it up to his face. The resemblance is uncanny. (Caption: ‘To me, there’s no difference.’)

Then Special Team 1 returns and... I honestly don’t even know how they managed to edit this portion because it is SO chaotic. Everyone is just talking over each other. Heechul and Jisoo start shouting about how the entire team is so pointlessly good-looking and Jin goes to a corner to grow mushrooms (that is literally what the caption says). Dong-wook is surprised but still valiantly trying to stay on track and do the Gamja team introduction, but sags to the floor when he realises that nobody is listening (Caption: ‘even the camera is not focused on him ㅠㅠ’). 

Heechul: (shouting) Why are they making you guys sell potatoes?? Where is the justice in this world?

The employees of Special Team 1 are so sweet and embarrassed, and the original JYPI Guy (whose name is Mark!) asks if he can have Jisoo’s autograph. 

Heechul: Don’t you want Lee Dong-wook’s autograph? He can sign one of your potatoes. 

Dong-wook: (Sits on an exercise ball, exhausted, and almost overbalances.)

Jin aggressively asks for a team introduction, and they get as far as the Team Leader’s name before bursting into a rendition of ‘Scars Deeper than Love’ (Recapper note: the Team Leader has the same name as Yim Jae-bum, former frontman of the band Sinawi). The poor man is so embarrassed he has to go sit down. Finally, after the introductions, everyone is calm enough and Dong-wook can actually ask the team questions about the Potato World Tour that the writers have prepared.

Except Na PD insists that there’s not enough time to continue with the questions (Caption: ‘But this is an Internet broadcast that can run for however long you like…’), and the Gamja team hurries to make the potato lattes. Dong-wook, who appears to have more of a work ethic than Na PD, takes it upon himself to go around the cubicles to interview the Special Team 1 guys. When he gets to the Team Leader he tries to make a special request for _Gamja Caffe_ and the Gamja team to go along for the Second World Tour, and the Team Leader and Assistant Team Leader’s response and interactions are so cute that even Dong-wook is charmed.

Team Leader: I don’t see why not.

Assistant Team Leader: (says something not picked up by the microphone)

Dong-wook: I’m sorry, could you repeat that? 

Assistant Team Leader: (points at Team Leader to say it)

Team Leader: He’s asking if you can get Lee Seung-gi on board. 

Dong-wook: We have BTS’ Jin and BLACKPINK’s Jisoo--

Assistant Team Leader: (barely audible; captioned) Our management would like Lee Seung-gi. 

Team Leader: (fondly) He does the negotiations around here. 

Dong-wook: It feels like I’m talking to a married couple. I’m sure you both work very well together.

It’s also revealed that the original idea for the Potato World Tour was actually inspired by BTS, and Jin says he doesn’t know how to feel about this. Heechul in the meantime is extra vindicated in respect of his earlier comparison between BTS and potatoes, and as he crows about this, the screen is overlayed with an apology from Na PD and the production team to BTS, A.R.M.Y., and Big Hit Entertainment. 

Jisoo, in the meantime, suggests that the Special Team 1 guys should have an idol group name. 

Jin: (grumpy) Isn’t Special Team 1 good enough?

Heechul: No it should be potato related. Like Gamja Men. 

Jisoo: That’s so old-fashioned. 

Dong-wook: There are seven of them so why not something like Gamja 7?

Jin: (pointing) Look at Assistant Team Leader just shaking his head. 

And on that unfinished note, the Gamja team bid farewell to Special Team 1, a bunch of office workers so pointlessly good-looking they could probably be in an idol group. Na PD closes off the episode by overlaying three successive captions over slow-motion footage of the day’s events. The first caption states that some may have noticed that no potato lattes were ever served to Special Team 1, and explains that it is because the Gamja team had left all the milk downstairs in the Gamja Caffe truck. 

As the first caption fades out, a second one appears, which reads: ‘Apologies and thank you to Special Team 1! Please grace our screens again!’ 

Then the screen fades to black and finally, a third and last caption appears: ‘Lee Seung-gi, don’t make me ask twice! -- Na PD’.

What a great ending to a pitch perfect (if oftentimes chaotic) series. Until the next time, Gamja team! 

\---

After the production crew has cleared out, taking the half-prepared and milk-less potato lattes with them, the team sags back into their respective chairs, exhausted. Except for Jackson, of course, who stays perched atop the gym ball that had earlier defeated Lee Dong Wook. 

“That was… loud,” says Jaebeom, pressing his fingers along the back of his neck and wishing Jinyoung could rub it for him. 

“Mark looks like he can die happy,” Youngjae observes, while Mark cradles to his tender bosom the hand Jisoo has touched. 

Hyun-jin, now no longer the grilled eel intern but their grilled eel trainee, returns from downstairs bearing cups of coffee from the _Gamja Caffe_ truck. 

“They didn’t even have potato on the menu,” he pants, as he hands out the cups. 

“What do you mean, they didn’t _even_,” says Bambam. “I almost wept with joy when they said they’d forgotten the milk.” 

“I don’t know,” says Yugyeom, “the online reviews by people who actually visited the cafe said the potato lattes were rather nice.”

“I’m sure they taste just fine,” says Youngjae, “if the rest of your waking life hasn’t already been consumed by potatoes. Which, by the way,” he adds, directing this at Jaebeom, “_why_ am I still here instead of back at my desk with the Steel Team, _like you promised_?” 

“The President wanted the team together for round two,” says Jaebeom, with the fraying patience of someone who has had this exact conversation every day for two weeks now. 

President Park had told Jaebeom of his plans in a rare face to face meeting one morning at his private gym, a week after the last stop of the Potato World Tour. Ostensibly, the purpose of the meeting had been for President Park to personally acknowledge Jaebeom’s work, but it had turned out to be just an excuse for him to spring plans for a second world tour on Jaebeom and the team.

Jaebeom had discovered, that morning, that it is very hard to say no to someone when they are star jumping explosively towards you. 

“Maybe if we got President Park to star jump aggressively at Lee Seung-gi,” says Jinyoung later, when they’re at one of the grilled eel places from the spreadsheet Hyun-jin has lovingly compiled for Jinyoung. 

Hyun-jin is an excellent trainee -- maybe even as excellent as Bambam -- but he has a way of freezing up in the presence of Jinyoung that reminds Jaebeom, uncomfortably, of himself.

“I don’t know if there’s currently anyone in this organisation who wants Lee Seung-gi to promote Korean potatoes more than you do, at this point,” Jaebeom tells Jinyoung. Or anyone else in the country, for that matter, he thinks. “I don’t even know _when_ you took this campaign upon yourself.”

“If the man can promote Jeju oranges,” says Jinyoung a little too loudly, startling a few people in the small restaurant, “what makes him think the Daeji potato is beneath him?”

“You can’t compare potatoes and oranges--” Jaebeom begins.

“--if you make that joke one more time...” Jinyoung grits out. 

“Don’t fight,” says the restaurant _ahjumma_, generously bestowing upon them another serving of grilled eel with a benevolent smile, as if Jaebeom isn’t _still _going to have to fucking pay for all of it at the end of the meal. 

Notwithstanding the daylight robbery, this place is still one of Jaebeom’s favourites on the grilled eel spreadsheet, mostly because it’s dim and cosy and the seats are close enough together that Jaebeom can sometimes hold Jinyoung’s hand under the counter.

“You were awfully quiet today, after the shoot,” says Jaebeom. 

“I was tired, I guess,” replies Jinyoung. “And I was also thinking.”

“About the immensity of having to do a _second _world tour so soon after the first?” Jaebeom asks. “Not even knowing if the potato curse has been lifted by our earlier, improbable success?” 

“I honestly don’t think the potato curse exists,” says Jinyoung. “And no, I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“Okay,” says Jaebeom. “That’s good, because I think about that all the time.” He also, incidentally, often thinks about the evening several weeks ago when Jinyoung had reached over and found a knot right under his shoulder blade and dug his fingers in, and then his elbow. How the knot had flared painful and bright for several nauseating seconds before it had released, leaving Jaebeom feeling lighter for days.

The smug look on Jinyoung’s face, after. He thinks about that a lot.

“I guess,” Jinyoung is saying, “I was thinking about how Lee Dong Wook basically called us a married couple on national television.”

“Ah,” says Jaebeom. “I was more concerned at that point about you making public your Lee Seung-gi vendetta. But yes, I suppose he did say that.”

“And?” says Jinyoung expectantly. 

The Jaebeom of less than a year ago would probably have frowned a lot and talked about one of his management disaster case studies. The Jaebeom of several years ago, miserable not with ambition but with fear of failure, would probably not have been sitting there in the first place, because any time not at his desk would have been precious time wasted. And intern Jaebeom, ridiculous boy that he was, would probably have wolfed down everything on his plate and run away, two ten thousand won notes fluttering in his wake. 

The Jaebeom of right now simply reaches over and takes Jinyoung’s hand. 

“I’m fine if you are,” he says, and uses his left hand to clumsily stuff a too-large perilla leaf wrap into his mouth, monster-from-_The-Host_ style. 

He chews, laboriously, over the sound of laughter rising from Jinyoung’s chest. 

Jinyoung’s fingers curl around his.

**THE ACTUAL END**

**Author's Note:**

> This started when I asked forochel if anyone had written an au where Got7 are cubicle peons trying to get by and everything is hyper specific. Then I wrote the line ‘misaeng, but make it snarksville’ in a Google doc and this fic exploded from there. 
> 
> I also deluded myself into thinking this would be a short and contained thing with my SEVEN-WEEK FORMAT, without actually doing the math on what 7 times of however many words per section would amount to. “Each section is 1 week and you are DONE”, I wrote in my notes, like a Fool.
> 
> Massive thanks as always to the amazing forochel, who KNOWS ME SO WELL that they guessed I had written the first 1k words even before I told them, and whose JJP headcanon continues to be the sheet from which I crib. (Their comments also informed, among many other things, the decision to make Hwang Hyunjin the Grilled Eel Intern, Youngjae’s terrifying bellowing and Jinyoung’s deplorable -- and exaggerated -- alcohol tolerance.) To forochel: Your comments and encouragement are golden potatoes in my field of dreams (this metaphor really got away from me). <3


End file.
